


Cruel To Be Kind

by gghoulish



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Billy Hargrove Lives, Billy Hargrove Redemption, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia, Physical Abuse, Post-Season/Series 03, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, a happy ending if u will despite knowing that the duffers gonna fuck us, haha i forgot to put it in the notes but there's really no paranormal stuff happening, it's not very present, there's mentions of mindflayer and other upside down stuff but asides from a few vague things, this is focusing more on the aftermath of the paranormal things that DID happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2020-11-27 00:42:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 82,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20939459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gghoulish/pseuds/gghoulish
Summary: 'Harrington was his appointed Knight in Shining Armor. More like Dipshit in a BMW.'A post-S3 story exploring the lives of Steve and Billy after Billy survives Starcourt. Together, they begin to share an unlikely bond.(REWRITTEN as of 6/27/20)





	1. Side A, Fine Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, this fic has come a long way--- it helped me discover a new preference for my writing style, and it brought me back to my love for writing in general. i wrote a lot of this all at once--- the bulk of it, in fact. but a lot of things have happened in my life in the last few months and made it hard to continue/finish this--- but i'm still glad to come back to this project. this fic has been updated with better chapter titles and added scenes--- i am very proud of it, and i was before i did revisions, but in the months since i started this, i developed ideas for tommy and made a lot of ocs for stranger things. because of this, i wanted to add more into this fic, to make it seem more fulfilled and rich. i use a lot of my own experiences in writing billy, as i saw a lot of my younger self in him. so the way he acts post-s3 matches a lot of how i reacted to trauma/harsh life situations.
> 
> as stated, some ocs will be mentioned--- however! a lot of them are my boyfriend, mj's. i am very thankful to him for supporting me and always rereading this fic of mine, even when it was stagnant for so long. i also want to thank my best friend kat and also pine for eagerly reading and commenting on this fic, especially when i first started on it. i wouldn't have posted it without you guys!
> 
> some things still ring true for this fic and, thus, from the original author's note: this is rated M for Misdirected Angst. there's topics of depression, suicidal ideation, suicide itself, self harm, abuse, and other unpleasant things. though there’s nothing sexually explicit in this fic, i may be making a different series for the wip smut i have.
> 
> i bend canon where i need to, and i'm aware of anything i'm doing that may not be canon. this fic starts in october of 1985, and goes pretty far out. i do hope y'all enjoy this, i'm not really looking for a shitload of criticism, i may have spent a lot of time working on this, but it doesn't mean i want it put under an obsessive lens. anyway, marie kondo, this one's for u
> 
> (my twit is energems and mj's is festercorpse!)

( [Click here for the playlist for this fic](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4dgxJ9KHRETy7eKhoSy6cl?si=K6rGT3f8RReWGqZhO8coVw), [click here for my Harringrove playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6M6YLGIhgsITz4uztPSc8i?si=Bm90vLP_Qeum-jhrTOT7KA). You can also find other playlists of mine on Spotify! )

* * *

Normal was something that Steve Harrington didn't have a good definition for.

After the last few years, both disappointing and exhilarating, he'd come to realize that '_ normal _ ' was a thing he'd forgotten long ago. He used to be normal, he figured, maybe a little lucky, at that. But he'd just been a kid, going to school, going to parties--- he'd had a girlfriend, made silly teenage mistakes, and lived a relatively normal life. Hawkins, Indiana didn't breed much when it came to originality. He was a product of the place. Touted as one of the most popular teens in the dump, and he wasn't even _ that _special.

However, the tides had turned. He soon became a product of the chaos that descended upon the small town--- he felt it ironic, that as soon as he became different, something more noticeable, no one cared. He didn't feel like he belonged in Hawkins, and nothing else he had witnessed belonged there, either. It belonged in **Hell**.

So somewhere down the road of his grades suffering and his parents being overbearing, he had forgotten what normal was like. Maybe it was going to bed without checking for the bat beside your bed. Maybe it was being able to sleep through the night without waking up in a sweat. Maybe it was _ not _ being radioed at four in the morning by one of _ seven _kids you found yourself oddly close to.

But it was definitely not whatever was going on. Whatever the case, normal wasn't something he was going to find again anytime soon. Although Steve didn't live in fear anymore, he lived a life prepared for anything that'd come at him. He gave everything a second glance. Sometimes a third, almost definitely a forth. He had grown paranoid, leaving behind his oblivious nature in a sacrifice for safety. Ignorance had once ruled him, and truth be told, sometimes he missed that. He felt hugely out of place among the bunch of nerds who knew more than he did, but he comforted himself by tapping his fingers against his bat--- his _ legacy _. He was useful, in some regard, if he could keep people safe. And that was what mattered.

But he really noticed the change of **normal ** versus _ strange _ when he was called at two am--- on his _ actual house phone _ . It was Max, and in a moment of pure terror, Steve fumbled with his radio to see if he'd messed it up. Left it off, or fucked with the settings--- it wouldn't have been the first time, and certainly not the last. He didn't expect _ calls _from the kids, they always used the radios--- or, if you were unlucky enough, they'd ride their bikes over to your house in the middle of the night and throw rocks at your window.

Right now, though, he was only dealing with _ one _ of them, and in a way he wasn't used to. He felt his stomach twist as he heard her ask, "can you please come over? Can you pick Billy up?" She sounded like she had been crying, and Steve distantly heard the clacking of plastic against metal. Probably her rings, or bracelets, vibrating against the receiver, a mirrored sound to him struggling not to drop his radio as he checked it.

"What? Did he do something? Are you hurt? Why didn't you---" Steve was cut off, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to juggle both the phone and his radio. Evidently, Max had picked up on where he was going with that thought, and maybe even that he was about to radio the others.

"_ Please _ ? I don't want them to know. Not right now. Can you please help us, Steve?" He wouldn't say no. _ Couldn't _say no. He didn't know what was happening, and he was out of his depth, but he would still do whatever he could. He nearly forgot to hang the phone up before he was out the door; he'd already been shoving his feet into his shoes--- loosely tied as always, so he could get going in an instant.

"Uh--- yeah, yeah. No worries, Max. I'm on my way," he didn't speak to her much, so he didn't know what else to say or how to comfort her. She just thanked him and he was already out the door within a second of dropping the phone back onto the hook.

He wasn't sure if he'd slept without his keys in the last year. It just felt natural, at this point. The metal digging into his thigh as he slept, an unforgettable reminder of the danger he always felt he was in, but also something that soothed him, made him feel safe--- or at least like he'd have a _ chance, _ if something went wrong. Maybe he didn't feel _ fear, _ as much as he felt _ acceptance _, of the fact that, at any moment, his life could be turned upside down--- quite literally.

With a bolt of energy that shouldn't belong to a guy running out the door at two am, he sprinted to his car and got in, faster than usual, at that. He kept track, like a timer was constantly ticking in his head; it felt like it was important, sometimes, to be that aware. He had to squint in the low light to see the interior of his car. He grabbed a flashlight that he'd put next to his seat and peered over to the passenger seat. He had the flashlight in his mouth then, a hand going to turn the car on before he swept a small pile of letters together and tossed them to the backseat.

Steve Harrington wasn't a guy who'd ever ** _really _ ** written letters. Only to his grandparents or to thank people for birthday presents. He hadn't gotten a birthday gift from any of his friends in the last few years--- asides from Dustin pulling together money to take him to a movie that he claimed was ' ** _essential _ ** to see'. Admittedly, he'd liked it more than the gift his father had given him. He'd gotten Steve a checkbook holder. _ That _was shoved away in the glove compartment.

But the letters on the seat were lovingly written by Jane and Will. The kids really loved him, for some godforsaken reason. He missed them, too. Called them every few days, or at least every week. They wrote to him more often than not; it was easier on the phone bills. And surprisingly, he wrote back to them each time.

He spotted a half-formed letter to Jane, recounting a disaster that'd happened earlier that week at the video store--- there was never a shortage of _ those _ stories. Who knew that a video store could hold so much drama. Steve wasn't particularly wordy and he'd _ still _ end up with pages of news. In this case, Will's letter included some Star Wars stickers he'd found, and the latest from the _ Steve Harrington Gazette _.

It was positively mundane. Nothing extraordinary.

Which was how things had been, the last few months, despite everything that'd happened before. Until now, at least, two am on a Tuesday _(_ _ Wednesday _ _?)_, him driving to the Hargrove residence. He'd been there enough times, to drop Max off or pick somebody up--- but it was still majorly weird to be going over there. Even weirder when he thought about why he was going there. Because of Billy Hargrove.

He figured that things hadn't been much weirder with Billy than they had with anyone else. He thought, _ so what if he beat the shit beaten out of me last year? _ it felt like it'd been decades ago. Compared to the rest of that mess of a night, Billy had been something he easily forgot. Besides that, it wouldn't be the first, and maybe not the last, time he'd kept contact with someone who wanted him _ dead. _

Few people ever apologized to him, and Billy hadn't apologized, exactly, but he'd thrown him a beer once. It was the time he'd brought the kids to the pool and fallen asleep, effectively getting a horrible sunburn. Everyone was surprised when Billy didn't rip him a new asshole for staying late. Some part of Steve had expected an ass-kicking, that day, and as much as he wanted to prove that he could win a damn fight, he was soggy, sunburnt, and hadn't been in the mood to watch a fleet of kids get worried over him. _ Again _.

'_ Here, Harrington. Get yourself together, man _ ,' Billy had said, making that about the whole extent of their interactions in the past year. Steve felt like it had been kind of an apology, or as close as Billy Hargrove could get to one. Maybe it was a truce--- a _ beer _truce. The best kind of truce, in his opinion. It'd been a damn cold one, too. A total relief after he roasted his ass. Billy'd even gone and made shit easier for Steve by taking Max and Lucas to the movies, drastically shortening the taxi service that was permanently held in Steve's BMW.

Of course, more than a few times, Mike and Lucas had complained about Billy. Sometimes the complaints lead to talk about the time when he was possessed, but they rarely mentioned that. It was more about the old Billy. The one from when he'd first come to Hawkins, even if that Billy seemed dead and buried by now. After surviving the Starcourt Shitshow, Billy had been put in that unique kind of ICU that the government threw together. No one had really seen or heard from Billy for months at first, and when it came to him, people didn't talk much. Max updated them on Billy's health, but not much. He'd only just come back a few weeks ago, and Steve had seen Billy once since then. He had looked hollow, like half the man he was before. Scrawny, almost, though Steve would sooner eat glass than say that out loud.

All that was in the past, though. As he pulled up to the Hargrove's house, his headlights put the man he was thinking of on full display. He didn't wince at the lights, since his head was already hanging low, his shoulders drooping. Steve didn't know what he was expecting, but a deflated Billy out on the front steps in the chilly night air with no coat, wasn't really that. As he got out of his car, he didn't see lights on inside, but he could just barely catch Max peaking out from behind the curtains of a nearby window. 

"Uh, I'm supposed to pick you up?" He felt _ so _ stupid for just standing there, but he didn't know what to do. Max wasn't coming out, and Billy wasn't looking at him. It was with a vague amount of shock that Steve recognized the smell of blood, and it was then that he caught sight of Billy's shirt. It wasn't soaked with blood, but it wasn't exactly _ dry _ , either. He still had yet to hear Billy say even _ one _word--- for all Steve knew, he was passed out sitting up. It felt eerie.

"Whoa, are you okay, man? Do you need to go to the hospital?" All of his reservations about how to treat Billy got thrown out the window. He knew better than to touch the guy, but he did crouch, trying to see if he could get a better look at him.

His hair was still the same. A bit shorter, but it was still curly and despite whatever had happened, it looked good, too. He must've had it cut when he was at the hospital, though Steve wasn't sure why. Billy had always kept it longer, seemed to prefer it that way. No one was about to say he looked bad with it like that, either. Even like this--- out in the cold night air, looking like arguable shit, Billy Hargrove was still a stunning dude. Steve kind of hated himself for that train of thought, but he wasn't about to have an internal, one-sided war over it. He had enough of those about shit that actually mattered.

It was Billy's eyes that had changed, and Steve saw that when he looked up. They were darker. Sadder, even. Steve wasn't used to it. He wasn't used to the absence of blue-fire in his eyes. Dark circles framed his eyes, making him look like that kind of lost where you're just never _ found _. It made a shiver creep up on him.

"Hilarious, Harrington," the words were said after an uncomfortable pause, though they were without the usual Billy Hargrove brand of malice. Not even an ounce of the fire of before. He sounded so quiet, Steve barely heard him. It shocked him enough to make his mouth drop open, and he didn't know what to say for a few seconds.

Steve couldn't keep looking at him. His gaze wandered and he spotted the Camaro nearby. It looked damn near flawless, and meanwhile Steve's car had suffered from Starcourt; even with the best mechanic in town, it was still dinged up and looking questionable. It had a certain sound it made these days, like it was going to choke and sputter to death. Unlike with the Hargroves, the government hadn't done much for him. Tossed a few hundred at him in the long-run and given him medical attention, but that was it. It was somewhat laughable.

"I'm--- dude, I'm not kidding. Are you okay?" Max had called him to help--- but how was he going to help? The longer he looked at Billy, the worse he seemed. Steve was pretty sure that half of the reason for the dark circles was a black eye, but he couldn't be sure. He saw a few scratches on Billy's face, and a purple-ish mark. He had blood on his lips, both dried and wet, and Steve wasn't entirely sure if he had a split lip or not. In this lighting, he couldn't make out all of Billy's features. He couldn't tell if his eyes were bloodshot or not, but he was pretty sure they were.

But there definitely was blood under his nails. Painted nails, he noticed. Black, but they'd faded and were chipped. They matched his eyes. Steve was getting a little scared, but it wasn't for himself. He knew Billy couldn't fight back if he tried, and honestly, if Billy made an attempt to kick his ass right now, he'd let him--- what was the worst he could do? Not much, Steve figured. The guy was still recovering from the shitshow at Starcourt. Far as he knew, he was forced to go home by his dad at the soonest acceptable time, even though Billy could barely function at that point--- he only knew that because of how _ worried _ Max had been, because all she'd done before he'd come back was pace around, unable to focus on anything other than her brother's arrival.

_ 'He's coming home early', _ that's what Max had told the kids, anyway, and it'd made its way through the teen-shaped grapevine. Honestly, Steve didn't care if Billy had nearly punched an eye out last year, it was this exact moment that he was living in and had to worry about. If he held grudges, he'd be dead--- so would Nancy and Jonathan. He'd told Max he'd help, so he had to figure out how. He didn't want to see her like she'd been before--- if nothing else, he wanted to do something for _ her _.

Billy never answered his question. He just shrugged. Steve realized that he wasn't going to move on his own. Much to his own surprise, he got Billy into his car without too much of a fuss. It was strange to have his hands against Billy's arm and back, leading him to the car--- yet it was without the awkwardness he'd expected. Billy was obviously exhausted, so any venom he had left had dried up, leaving him almost _ docile _. The ride was quiet, strangely peaceful after he rolled the windows down; Steve didn't turn the radio on, instead letting the whipping sounds of the wind be their music.

As they pulled into his driveway, Steve said, "you can stay here as long as you want, man. Parents won't be home for a few weeks." --- and just as before, Billy didn't speak; he looked distant, and hadn't said a word since they had gotten into the car. It didn't seem like he'd be speaking anytime soon, so he didn't bother to ask Billy any questions. He just lead him inside.

He didn't know what he was in for, really, but he assumed that given how worried Max was, he shouldn't leave Billy alone. Steve hadn't taken a sick day yet, when it came to the video store job. Robin would 've known if he was bullshitting, and he didn't want to get chewed out--- Steve was a bitch, sometimes, but not that much of one. Robin had helped him get that job, so he wasn't going to ditch it for no good reason. Steve may have lost his title of _ King of Hawkins High _ , but he certainly reigned supreme as the _ King of Bad Habits _. He didn't want to get used to flaking out.

But it seemed that today was finally the day he'd let himself do that. It was nearly four am by the time they got settled, and he knew there was no way he was going to work the early shift tomorrow. In fact, he and Billy couldn't even sleep to begin with. Five am rolled around and that was when he'd tried to get Billy cleaned up, though he'd weakly scowled and refused to let Steve to touch him. He disappeared into the guest room at some point after that.

It was six am when they officially gave up on sleep. Billy had wandered out of the guest room and down the stairs, face still bloody as his paranoid gaze looked over the house. Steve was on the couch in the living room and welcomed him to join him there. They ended up watching stuff on TV, in silence.

Eight am came around and Steve called in sick. He didn't answer the phone when another call, probably from Robin, came in. He really didn't want to play with fire. He had enough of that within two feet of him.

So he'd just sit there, awkwardly, keeping an eye on Billy.

It was noon when Billy let Steve wipe his face off. Billy revealed a pocket full of pills and said, '_ one every twelve hours _'. Steve put them in a dish on the counter in the kitchen and gave one to Billy. As if he'd earned some kind of reward, Billy relented and let him put a bandaid on the deepest scratch on his face.

It felt like a damn victory.

\---

The first night Billy was there, he vomited all over the kitchen table. Steve didn't expect it, but then again, he wasn't the best cook. He thought he made decent pasta, though. Granted, Steve wasn't picky with food. Maybe Billy was.

He wasn't sure if it was his gag reflex or something else, but Billy's eyes were watering. He looked mortified as he stared at the mess he'd made.

"... I'll clean it up," he muttered, though he looked woozy as he tried to stand up.

"No, I got it. It's fine. You want a sandwich or something?" He tried to lighten the mood--- he knew Billy hadn't been eating too much, because Max called him to say that. Apparently, Max had called like five times before that, too, but Steve had been in the shower for _ those _. As it was, Billy hadn't eaten all day--- he'd refused every snack Steve dragged out, and he didn't want to eat anything else. Steve offered to get pizza, and Billy had stayed quiet.

"I'll make it." It didn't take rocket science to figure out where the materials were. Steve nodded and let him pass by to go into the kitchen. He was just happy that he would eat anything voluntarily.

He saw from the corner of his eye that Billy slapped down two slices of bread onto a plate. Placed a piece of ham on one, and after what appeared to be great debate, he put a slice of cheese on top. He didn't add any condiments, just kind of ate it sadly while standing there. Again, he looked lost at best, but he wasn't vomiting, at least.

"Sorry," he said that after a solid two minutes of silence. Steve was wiping the table down with great dedication, blowing some hair out of his face as he looked up.

"Don't worry about it," he paused, "... I kind of got sick after all that shit, too," he didn't know how Billy felt--- what it was like to be possessed by the Mindflayer--- but he had seen what it did to Will. Kid had looked like a fucking mess for months. Billy couldn't be feeling any better. He had a feeling that Billy wouldn't want to talk about what had happened--- and truthfully, what could Steve do to help or comfort him? He didn't know Billy, and even if he did, that probably wouldn't help. Steve also couldn't really think of anything he'd done that was good for Will during that time, except---

"My parents have like, a thousand movies. I swear. Gotta be something you'd like. You wanna watch something?" He gestured to the living room, Billy's depressing gaze looking in that direction. Steve had a feeling that he wasn't going to move, or do anything, without help. So once again, he gently placed a hand on Billy's arm, bringing him to the living room before offering him a blanket.

"I'll put something on," he didn't mind. He'd had a good look at the collection, and to be honest, his parents rarely noticed any absences. He'd fucked up a copy of some movie a few weeks into his job at the video store, and lucky for him, his parents had a copy--- so he just cleverly applied the store's mandatory stickers and called it a day. They hadn't missed it worth a shit.

But, at least the collection could be put to some sort of use now. It was after the second movie that Billy got up by himself to look at the shelves of tapes, and Steve breathed a sigh of relief at the sign of _ life _.

  
Even if it was awkward, it was better than nothing. And, somehow, it was all less depressing than his usual nights ended up being.

_ That probably said a lot about the state of his affairs... _


	2. Side A, You're Somebody Else

The next time he went to work, he passed as having been--- or still  _ being _ sick, so fortunately Robin didn't nag him. He found that he could barely get any sleep, always waking up late after long nights, so needless to say, he looked like shit. Though the exhaustion was genuine, it was still a good disguise, something that helped him to avoid questions. And in the grand scheme of things, being tired was the least of his problems. It was something he was more than used to. He's pretty sure that Dustin had once said that he had  _ insomnia _ , and Billy's arrival hadn't done much to improve that.

However, he didn't blame him; Billy was having a lot worse of a time than he was, and though he may not know Billy very well, he still wanted to  **help** ; he couldn't really explain it, but he was trying his best.  _ Even if he wasn't too excited to have to do a bunch of laundry and chores _ . Though, that was his fault for falling behind on it--- he'd never been too enthused with housework, not when it felt like he was just maintaining a  _ shell _ , a lifeless place. But now it wasn't a big empty house--- it was a  _ mostly _ empty house. And Billy didn't have any clothes with him, so Steve had to fork over a few pairs of pants, shirts, and underwear. 

It was a little weird, sharing all that with Billy, but he didn't seem to care. He didn't think that Billy cared about much, these days, and truthfully, Steve could relate to that. The clothes he arrived in were, to say the least, gross. Covered in blood and dirt, and despite it having been nearly a day since he picked the guy up, every piece was oddly damp. Steve didn't think that any of the stains scattered over the fabric would be coming out.

Everything about Billy's stay was built on trial and error, on Steve having momentary  _ panic _ when he couldn't find him, when he woke up and heard doors opening and closing. After months of feeling so  **alone** , it was jarring. Sometimes, he caught Billy staring at the pool outside when he got home, like he was lost in thought, but there was something so eerie about it, and it made Steve eager to find some kind of distraction for him. It was on the third day of him being there that Steve brought him to his room and let him go through his cassettes and records. Steve didn't say it out loud, but he was worried for Billy--- he was glad when he stopped standing outside at random, because it meant Steve didn't have to wake up at three am to usher him inside. Other than all that, Billy wasn't too bad. He was oddly polite, in fact, always insisting on doing dishes, trying to do  _ his part _ .

On the fifth day of him being in Steve's house, he emerged from the guest room, just as Steve was depressedly trying to flatten a wrinkle out of his shirt. He was on his way to work.  _ He was ten minutes late.  _ Billy looked at him like he knew this--- and maybe he did, Billy was more perceptive than Steve was even aware of. Shouldn't be too shocking, but it was, to a frazzled, sleep-deprived Steve Harrington.

"Hey. Can I come with you?" It was such a simple question, it left Steve confused. Billy had never shown a desire to be anywhere near him outside of the house  _ (or, honestly, inside of the house) _ , but he decided, _'_ _ hey, this is an improvement _ _'_, and ran with it.

"Yeah, uh, sure. I'm a little late but," he stopped when Billy waved his hand, his gaze following the gesture before he blinked.

"Don't need you to take me anywhere else, Harrington. I can walk from the video store." Which wasn't too surprising, was it? It was in a strip mall anyway, and Hawkins wasn't exactly the biggest place. With no Starcourt left, there wasn't much to do, anyway--- the newer, smaller mall was hardly worth the long walk.

"Oh. Okay, yeah," he was on his way down the stairs, glancing back to see that Billy already had his boots on and looked ready to go. He couldn't remember when Billy got his own clothes back, but he figured Max must've dropped some stuff off while he was at work. Wasn't something he had much time to think about, since he was out the door and locking it once Billy followed him.

"I get off work at nine, so," he floundered for something to say as he sank into his seat. Billy settled into the passenger seat with little fuss, though he'd grabbed an unsent letter he had to mail to Will and Jane, looking at it with a raised eyebrow.

"Huh, you write to the shitheads?" Steve almost bristled at the word, but realized that he  _ also  _ called them shitheads. He grumbled a bit, eyebrows furrowed as he turned the car on and backed out of the driveway.

"Yeah, you can put that---" he was cut off by Billy looking straight at him, quickly making him shut up. Those blue eyes were  _ way  _ past mesmerizing. They looked different than they had only a week ago; the fire wasn’t there quite yet, but Billy looked more lively all the same. He should be focused on driving, but he was staring like an idiot, words dead on his tongue. Billy hadn't looked at him with that much focus, not since he'd come to his house. In fact, Steve had never noticed the kind of  _ intensity _ that was in Billy's eyes--- he wondered if it'd always been that overwhelming.

"I can mail it, if you want," Billy offered, even though the post office was a big fucking walk from the video store.

"Uh," Steve wasn't sure of what to say. He found it weird that Billy would offer. Would he toss it out or something? He didn't seem like the kind of guy to do anyone favors. Then again, Steve had spent the better part of the week babysitting him. Maybe he felt obligated.

"Sure. Thanks," he kept it short, kept it nice, but not  _ sweet _ . Billy was being nice and talkative, so he should be thankful--- he  _ was _ thankful. But he didn't want to push his luck with anything, so he refrained from being too  _ enthusiastic _ .

"No problem," was all Billy said, his gaze rolling to the window. Steve pressed a button on the car's radio a bit too hard and immediately realized that he hadn't thought through that the last thing he'd put in there was a cassette from Will. The kid had good taste, but it wasn't exactly rock n' roll. Not exactly  _ Billy's  _ taste, Steve realized, as a rush of heat came to his face.

Kate Bush came blasting out of the speakers and Billy was staring at him again.

"Uh," he didn't really know what to say as  _ Cloudbusting  _ came on.

"Nice," was all Billy said ( _ a solid few seconds later, but it was better than nothing _ ), his eyes moving to the scenery once again. Nothing else was said. No malice. No joking.

Steve tapped his fingers against the steering wheel.

Kate Bush wasn't bad, that was for sure.

\---

They spent each night together, usually on the couch. Billy fell asleep there more than a few times, but it was only once that his head fell towards Steve's shoulder. It wasn't like he'd made the decision to rest his head against Steve, but it ate at Steve's nerves and made him  _ feel  _ something.

Things were better when he didn't know anything about Billy Hargrove. But now he did.

He knew that he liked anchovies on his pizza--- but he'd pick them all off and shred them before dumping it back onto the slice. He'd sometimes open a soda and leave it in the fridge to drink later. Swore it tasted better. He hated mayo. He would add barbecue sauce to anything you put near him, but not too much--- never swamped his fries or drowned his chicken. He didn't even use the sauce or show an interest in milkshakes until he'd been there for two weeks. Some time into his stay, he'd even started to cook and clean, and despite how strange it was, it kind of felt like they shared the house. Billy was complicated, like a puzzle that was in a thousand pieces, begging to be put together on the coffee table. It was all confusing, but interesting.

There was a lot he didn’t know about Billy, but there was also a lot that he was learning. He seemed to like futuristic movies the most, his favorite magazines were ones about traveling, and he didn’t bitch and moan about Steve’s music nearly as much as he thought he would.

And sometimes, Billy woke up in the middle of the night, screaming.

It was jarring the first time it happened. Steve tried to see what was wrong, but Billy had locked himself into a bathroom. Steve swore he heard crying, but he didn't dare mention it. He put music on, to drown it all out, and Billy seemed to like it that way.

So every time he woke up screaming, Steve would put music on in the guest room. Leave a cup of water. One time the crying went on for longer than usual and he left a cookie in there ( _ courtesy of Dustin's mom _ ), like that'd help. Maybe it did, since he heard the crying simmer down to sniffles, and he felt relieved.

Over time, it got better. Steve offered to stay up late with him, and it cut down on the nights when he'd wake up in terror. Steve never, ever, mentioned those nights. But he saw the fear in Billy's eyes when they passed each other in the hallway, as if he'd break the solemn silence between them.

But then, late one night, the bathroom door wasn't locked when he went to check on him. It was open, actually. Billy was in there, staring at his reflection, his hands in his hair, his eyes glossy with freshly shed tears.

He sounded broken as he quietly and absently said, "Neil forced me to cut it." 

Steve didn't know what to do. So he just put a hand on Billy's shoulder and lead him back to his bed. Sat with him there, until Billy was drowsy enough to lay down. Even if he was manic, his medicine would faithfully knock him out for at least a few hours.

When Steve was sure Billy was asleep, he brushed his fingers over Billy's forehead, touching some of the curls that rested there. He didn't think much of the ache in his chest as he saw the dark circles that still ruled over Billy's features, making him look less alive and more dead.

Steve Harrington knew that it'd break his heart if he thought about it all for too long.

\---

The only thing he really kept on top of these days was the letters to the kids. Jane and Will showed an interest in Billy being with him, whereas he wasn't too eager to tell Dustin or Mike about it. He figured that Lucas got enough information, and he could spread it around.

It wasn't that he was ashamed of Billy or anything. In fact, he almost felt---  _ protective _ . He didn't want Billy to be in any more pain than he already was. He was pretty sure a bunch of kids running around, complaining on car rides, and dragging them around relentlessly, just wouldn't be a thing he wanted to deal with.

It felt easier to write to Jane, and especially Will. He felt bad for being distant from all his friends, but his life revolved around work and Billy, these days. 

Will had sent him a letter a few days ago. Included something about how he was worried for Billy, and kind of wanted to talk to him. He added on at the end of the letter that he was still a bit scared of Billy, so he didn't want it mentioned to him. Jane expressed a fear for Billy, but not of him.

' _ He's going through the bad times. It's going to be hard _ .' She had written that in one of last week's letters, when Steve admitted the reoccurring issues. He hadn't told anyone else, and he felt a bit bad for telling Jane in the first place, but a part of him knew she'd understand it better than anyone else.

' _ He just needs a friend. Like I did _ .' Jane wasn't naive enough to think that Billy Hargrove could maintain a friend group, which Steve found both amusing and depressing. But maybe being able to spend time with someone who understood what had happened--- who had been a part of the chaos with the Mindflayer--- would help.

It was a rough time, but it was rewarding. Steve had wanted to be useful, and finally--- it felt like he was. And not because he swung his bat and hit a target. It was because he was helping someone who was hurting.

He'd never really done that before. It felt good.

\---

The screaming fits seemed to die down. They'd learned how to cope with those things, that it was easier to stay up an hour later than it was to try and go to bed before the meds kicked in. The nights on the couch blended into the nights spent in Steve's room, listening to music or flipping through magazines.

He wasn't sure when it happened, but Billy started to laugh again. With him, sometimes at him. It was like a song he'd never really heard before, and he got it stuck in his head when he went to bed at night. It paved over the panic that he associated with sleep, and slowly the fear of Billy waking up in agony fell to the back of his mind.

On a Friday, Max came into the video store. She shyly, but insistently, handed him a brown bag--- filled with somewhat-burnt cookies, but the thought was what counted. Besides, Steve couldn't bake much better than that, anyway, so he wasn't going to complain.

' _ For you guys--- thanks, Steve. For helping _ ,' Max had said that, smiling just a bit before she waved and left the store. Lucas was outside on his bike, waiting for her to get on her skateboard so that they could leave. Steve found himself fondly waving back to her--- and Lucas, smiling stupidly as he did so.

' _ You really love those kids, don't you? _ _'_ Robin had asked ( _ though she obviously needed no answer; she, too, loved them _ ), ruffling his hair. He wasn't even mad that she messed it up. Instead he shrugged, offering her a few of the cookies. The rest went to Billy after dinner. For how troublesome he'd once been, he was nothing but grateful, and perhaps even sentimental, when Steve told him that they were from Max.

He knew it might be foolish to think it, but he was pretty sure things were getting better.

\---

Billy began regularly visiting the video store and wandering around Hawkins--- not every day, Billy often was as exhausted as he looked, and would opt for staying home instead of tagging along on Steve's morning rides to work, but it was still good to see him out and about sometimes. In the last few days, he'd even taken to cooking meals, and he'd only done it  _ once _ , but he had packed Steve a lunch. Maybe his reaction of gawking had pissed Billy off enough to not do it again--- because as much as Billy was more tame, he was still the same old Billy. Steve was pretty sure that that meant that being an idiot about something like a packed lunch would qualify as irritating, then. But the truth of the matter was, Steve hadn't felt that cared for in years, not since he was way too little to remember. The niceness of doing that made his heart flutter, even if Billy scowled at him after handing it over.

Billy was definitely a better cook than he was, and a part of him wanted to ask if he'd make him lunch again. That was mostly what he was thinking of as his stomach grumbled, until he heard a car pull up--- it was late afternoon now, and Robin had gone to go and get them a late lunch. Billy had come with him today, and he'd circled back to the video store after dropping off a letter at the post office. But despite Billy making conversation with him, Steve's attention was on the car outside. As soon as Steve saw that obnoxious green car, he knew who it belonged to.

Within a few seconds, Steve could see bickering taking place outside of the store, frowning as he watched Tommy make exaggerated hand motions towards someone--- a big-haired, darkly dressed girl who flipped him the middle finger before storming off. Tommy looked disgruntled to say the least, arms crossed as he tapped his foot and shouted something Steve couldn't quite hear. There was always some level of anxiety that Steve felt at having people near his age coming in, like it'd be a replay of his last year of high school--- people mocking him, and never shutting up about  _ Nancy. _

He hadn't been close with many people in his grade--- not since falling out with Tommy and Carol. He wasn't even sure if they were still dating, because through his time knowing them, they'd always had their  _ stops _ and _ starts _ . And after ditching them, he'd found himself with Nancy and Jonathan--- not that much of an upgrade, he'd come to realize. But he had the kids--- Dustin was funny and smart for his age, and were Steve still in high school, he was pretty sure the kid could ace his homework for him.  _ Not that he'd thought of that, or anything. _

But he didn't want to think of that, even if he'd thought of it  _ so _ hard that he hadn't heard even half of what Billy was telling him. When he shifted his focus back to him, he wasn't exactly sure of what Billy was asking, or where he wanted to go, but he  _ did _ catch, ' _ need a ride _ _'_, and after blinking, he chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to figure out how exactly he could get out of work without being grilled by Keith or Robin. Or worse, the both of them.

However, he didn't seem to need to worry about that, because he heard a  _ jingle _ as the door opened, and Billy gave a quick glance back towards Tommy as he came in--- he came in with another boy, too, one who Steve'd known for a while now. Billy looked back to Steve, who was obviously struggling to find an excuse, and he sighed. "It's fine, Harrington. I can try to get Hagan to drive me," Billy brushed him off, not really considering  _ Steve's _ consideration of leaving work. Probably for the better, he was pretty sure Keith was going to nag him to death if he showed up late again, not to mention just ditching during work hours. He'd done that more than once for the kids, he didn't need to start doing it for Billy.

But asking  _ Tommy _ for a ride--- well, Steve didn't know how well that'd go. Billy evidently had a plan, because he waited until Tommy had gone to the back of the store to trail along after him, and strike up a conversation, which lasted until Tommy came over to check out. Granted, it wasn't Tommy who was checking out, it was the taller brunet with him who spared him an unamused look. He'd known him since they were kids--- his name was  _ Donnie Swan _ , and unlike Steve, he'd retained his popularity through their later years of high school.

They all seemed to be on alright terms; as far as Steve knew, Billy and Tommy had had a falling out sometime earlier in the year. He stopped seeing them together, and not so coincidentally, a lot of the bullying in Hawkins High had ceased. With the both of them fading into the background of the mundane bullshit of finals, prom, and graduation--- well, it felt like they'd all forgotten about each other, or at the very least, didn't have any more grudges to hold against one another. Steve certainly didn't hold anything against either of them; for one, Billy had just been through Hell, and secondly, he had begun to wonder if maybe Tommy hadn't been so in the wrong.

Despite his worries, he could hear Tommy speak up with a, "yeah, sure, Hargrove. I can give you a ride," though with the way Tommy had paused, Steve had wondered if there was some kind of residual tension. Nothing seemed too off, though Steve didn't consider himself very perceptive in that regard. He aimed a curious look to Billy, but the look wasn't returned.

It seemed that Billy wasn't the only one that had changed, because over the last few months, Tommy had become different, too. He seemed happier, less angry--- he still forced Donnie to check them out, and though he doubted Tommy wanted to pay on a good day, he knew it was likely to avoid conflict and communication with him. But he wasn't  _ mean _ , or not like he used to be. Something had obviously changed, and Steve wondered if it had anything to do with the way he saw him looking at Donnie. Tommy was reserved when it came to positive affection, and it was only in rare glimpses that he saw Tommy so---  _ different _ . But he noticed it, he wasn't entirely oblivious, despite whatever Robin may say about that.

After Donnie paid for their movies and candy, he threw an arm around Tommy's shoulders, making them both sway rather dramatically as they made their way out of the store. Billy waited until they were gone to wink and say, "he owes me. I fixed that car up for him," and he saw Billy gesture to the green vehicle just outside--- Steve wondered if he'd chosen that color, or if it was just the right amount of obnoxious that Tommy had insisted upon it.

"I'll have him drop me off at--- your place," with the way Billy hesitated, Steve almost wondered if he was about to say  _ home _ . But then, he thought, that was pretty silly. So he weakly said a goodbye, and watched as Billy left.

\---

Over time, it felt like a routine. Work, come home, spend time with Billy, maybe call some of the kids, and then go to bed. It wasn't a routine he disliked, either--- it was  _ weird _ , but it almost felt like he was a kid again. Like things were like they were before his dad was always on business trips. Before his mom insisted on always going.

Days turned into weeks, and his own words echoed in his head; ' _ you can stay here as long as you want, man. Parents won't be home for a few weeks _ '. And now, it'd been that few weeks. He'd anticipated Billy staying for a few  _ days _ . But snarky as he could be, Steve never complained. He'd be a liar if he tried to say he didn't enjoy Billy's presence to some extent. He had company on his drives to work, and someone to eat dinner with--- it was more than he'd had in a while. Max's occasional visits made him get to know her better, and they even watched a movie together--- Mad Max, ironically. He was the peacekeeper between them when Billy dumped the rest of their popcorn over Max's head, but they seemed to find it lighthearted, unlike how he'd seen them in months before. There was playful fighting, but nothing with any bite to it. It was actually kind of endearing to see. Max tried to hold Billy's hand at some point, but he pulled it away before she could.

It hadn't been a bad night. Steve was starting to think that he might be cut out for his job at the video store. He'd watched so many damn movies in the last few weeks, he could qualify as an expert--- okay, maybe not, but he liked to think that.

Through it all, he watched the old Billy come back, but it was oddly superficial. Billy didn't really act like he used to, he acted like the same shadow of a man he did when he'd returned from the hospital--- just a little more lively, with bits and pieces of himself coming through the cracks. But he was starting to look more and more like himself again--- filling out his clothes and looking less like he was about to keel over. It kind of comforted Steve.

But reality came knocking and shattered his private little bubble, his  _ fantasy _ . He got a call from his parents at the fucking video store of all places. They were mad that he hadn't been picking up the phone, and he couldn't blame them. He reminded himself, grimly, and for the eightieth time in the last few months, that he needed to get a damn apartment. They'd probably call less if he wasn't leeching off of them.

' _ We'll be home the day after tomorrow _ ,' so earlier than anticipated. He should've expected it--- Thanksgiving was around the corner and his family probably wanted to try and make an attempt at looking like they were normal and loving. Steve didn't want to have the talk with Billy that he was going to have to have. Like, tonight. Probably on their drive home. Maybe Billy would take the wheel and make them crash into a tree, do them both a favor.

They both knew it wasn't going to last forever, yet the elongated silence on the subject had spread like a virus. He hadn't thrown any parties or done anything bad, but he still felt guilt creeping up. Not to mention the paranoia. His parents wouldn't want Billy Hargrove in their house. And as much as Billy had turned out to be a nice guest, he knew he couldn't win that argument against his parents. Not when Thanksgiving was around the corner, and not when they'd never even met Billy or heard about him, beyond possible headlines in the newspaper months ago. Besides that, Steve was sure that Billy couldn't just---  _ stay forever _ . He had to go home, someday, even if neither of them wanted to talk about it.

So Billy would have to go back to his own home. That fact made Steve a little distant through the rest of his shift. Robin tried to ask him what was wrong, but he shrugged his shoulders and didn't look at her. He didn't know how he was feeling, anyway--- he wasn't ready to admit he enjoyed towing Billy around and sharing his day with him. It was something he actually liked, and that shocked him.

But that was fucking stupid. He was thinking about Billy Hargrove. Damn, Steve could fucking pick 'em. First his only friends were kids, and now he almost caught himself thinking of Billy as a friend, too. If his life got any sadder, he might get a lifetime movie based on him.

\---

Though Billy's nightmares dwindled, and their long nights spent together became fewer, he still found himself up awake, unable to rest. And just because he was more exhausted than usual, it didn't mean he'd get any easier of a time at the video store. When taking the job there, he hadn't anticipated so much chaos--- but every week felt like a new adventure in testing his patience. He wasn't one to lose his temper--- he probably never would, not at customers, anyway. Scoops Ahoy had been enough of an experience in humiliation, he felt pretty confident that he could handle idiotic teenagers and whining children. But after a long day of dealing with kids and moms grilling him on  _ whether or not this R-rated movie was appropriate for their eight year old _ , he was keen on sitting back and observing whatever else may happen. He wasn't much in the mood to bicker with people, but then again, he never was.

Of course, he could recognize a drunk ( _ and/or _ ) high person before they even entered the store, and he knew he was in for a wild time when four of them came stumbling in. He could hear Robin make a disgruntled noise as they tore through the isles; some kind of chaos descended upon the video store at that point, and Steve could hear bickering which ended up video tapes and candies hitting the carpeted floor with various  _ thuds _ \--- not that it was a shock. Two out of four of the people were  _ huge _ , over half a foot taller than him, and built like men out of action movies. He'd know; he's got them on loop,  _ I'll be back _ stuck in his head. 

The arguing only got  _ worse _ , which didn't feel like a surprise. While he couldn't make out what was being said, he could hear the chattering, even over a few explosions from a screen. The petite one rolled their eyes and crossed their arms, muttering something to ( _ who Steve assumed to be _ ) their boyfriend before he sighed. They mentioned something about  _ you better help clean that up _ to a scowling redhead, and then one duo left, leaving the other two to pay for what had been picked out--- and to deal with the mess scattered all over the floor. 

He was pretty sure that one of them---  _ Braydon _ \--- lived close to him, and had a huge house, one that was  _ way _ bigger than his own. That'd explain why he slapped two twenties on the counter to make up for the  _ mess _ that'd been made. He'd never been one for apologies, as far as Steve could remember--- he was pretty sure Braydon had slammed him into a locker a few times--- but he knew the other guy--- Joel--- well enough, and the meek blond apologized for the mess and offered to help, though Steve merely waved him off with a smile. He may not adore the idea of dealing with that mess, but seeing a friendly face was better than nothing--- even if it came paired with three less-friendly faces. Of course, Robin wasn't too pleased by Steve's nonchalance, and forced him to clean up the mess himself, but it wasn't so bad. Still, Steve wondered why Joel would bother hanging out with someone like Braydon; wasn't his place to ask, however, and he figured the whole group was rather odd anyway.

With a few of the tapes having cracked shells, Steve was grateful that there'd been so much extra money left over. But he knew that any of that in  _ tips _ and not  _ damage _ was going to be snatched by Robin,  _ compensation _ for having to deal with his lunacy. 

Like clockwork, Billy came in at 8:47. It felt like routine, at this point. He didn't say anything to Steve but nodded to Robin in some vague form of greeting, and after a long day, Steve was kind of happy to see him. Robin eyed him after Billy passed by. He was towards the back of the store when Robin asked,

"What's the deal with you two?"

She made it sound simple, like Steve could even begin to explain that. He realized by the vague look of irritation on her face, that she was probably mad at him for emotionally ghosting her the last few weeks. Billy didn't show up every day at the video store, sometimes he didn't even tag along in the car, but most days he did. Robin had noticed, and had been waiting for him to say something, and yet he never had.

"Nothin'. Just helping him, I guess. Wanna go see a movie this weekend?" If he lived that long. Billy hadn't shown him any semblance of anger or aggression, but Billy, for as much as he knew about him, was also an unpredictable bitch.

"I've got a date on Saturday," Robin said, her arms crossed. Steve legitimately didn't know if she'd mentioned this. Now he didn't know who'd get him first, Robin or Billy. He felt sweat building up on the back of his neck--- he found himself asking something he often did;  _ why was he so forgetful _ ? It made him feel awful, especially since he spoke to Robin's parents on occasion, and as far as they knew, he and her went on occasional  _ dates _ . He was her backup--- her  **excuse** . If she needed to hide what she was doing, he was there, no questions asked. He wasn't supposed to forget about these kinds of things.

"Er...  _ next  _ weekend?" He tried that with a weak smile, and Robin, god bless her, sighed and shook her head. She agreed to the plans and muttered something about him being  _ stupid _ . He could live with that. She pinched his cheeks and said ' _ you're lucky you're ' _ ** _cute_ ** _ ' _ ', putting quotation marks around 'cute', and he was off to the races.

The races happened to be at the back of the store. He took his name tag off as he walked, stuffing it into his pocket as he approached Billy, who had his hands on some gory looking movie. He wasn't sure if it really surprised him or not, but Billy liked a variance of movies and shows; Steve never knew what he'd pick, on any given night. It made it kind of fun, really. Steve had spent so long doing the same shit over and over again, that somehow, sharing a house with Billy Hargrove was  _ stimulating _ .

"Any good?" Billy asked, turning the tape around to show him the cover.  _ Fatal  _ something or other. His eyes were mostly distracted by the threatening silhouette on the cover, but he had a feeling Billy had picked it up for the volley ball-esque tits the girls were sporting.

"Uh, no clue," he scrambled to be some sort of  _ useful _ , but he wasn't winning that fight. He always found himself floundering when he was around other people--- but with Billy, it was almost  _ worse _ , somehow. He was surprised he wasn't called  _ lame _ a lot more often than he was.

"Guess we'll have to resort to the rich boy collection," Billy taunted him, perhaps for the first time since Summer. It made Steve feel strange. Relieved, maybe? Also a little worried. He wondered if things would stay like this.

"Y-yeah. Robin's letting me off early." Keith wasn't around, so what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. The store was deserted anyway, so him leaving a few minutes early wouldn't matter. After an awkward pause, he got up his courage and smiled, even if it was as awkward as the silence had been. "We can go," Steve said, as if that didn't sound fucking  _ weird _ .

\---

They were in the car. Steve couldn't hear whatever music was playing, since his heartbeat decided to play a panicked song in his ears. An assault on his nervous system, this whole fucking ordeal was.

Still, he sucked it up, knowing that he had to say something, and  _ soon _ . He swallowed and then cleared his throat, feeling that uncomfortable sweat building at the back of his neck again. "So..." Steve ran his tongue over his teeth, as if that'd buy him time.

"So?"

"... my parents are coming home. Day after tomorrow," he didn't look at Billy, but he felt his eyes on him. The sweat had returned to the back of Steve's neck, like an unwelcome guest. He couldn't find a way to be more eloquent.

Great.

"Oh," was all Billy said, though it sounded foreign. Billy wasn't made to say shit like ' _ oh _ '. Steve was used to an abrasive Billy--- the Billy that'd call him out for looking like an idiot if he wore something too girly, or just pick on him for kicks. This new Billy was still--- well, fucking new. He wasn't used to him, wasn't used to seeing  _ Billy Hargrove _ whenever he woke up. And yet, the idea of him not being there made him upset.

"I'll get my shit together." He said that after a few seconds, suddenly sounding frosty and indifferent. He was looking out the window, his curls successfully taking away any chance Steve had at seeing his expression. Well, now he had the old Billy back, or at least a fragment of him.

"I--- sorry," Steve didn't know what he was sorry for.

"I should've been out of your big fuckin' hair weeks ago, Harrington."

"I--- I didn't mind you staying over, Billy." He found it a shock that he wasn't lying about that, either. However, in all his stupidity, he managed to sound doubtful, and he cursed himself for it. "It's... good, to get away, sometimes. It was nice to uh, have company, too."

And he had his suspicions. Max was vague when he asked about it, and he'd never dare to say shit to Billy, but he had a feeling that the Hargrove house wasn't so great for Billy. Never really thought much on it in high school--- Billy had been a prick and that was case closed back then. But now, Steve saw things and was paranoid, forced out of his comfort zone. More aware. He'd seen more shit, so he was less ignorant.

His mind brought back the image of Billy, crying in the bathroom. Talking about how he'd been forced to cut his hair. What kind of asshole cut their kid's hair when they were unable to make a choice for themselves? When they’d nearly died only days before?

He'd first thought Billy had just gotten into a random fight, on the night he'd picked him up. Why he'd do that fresh out of the hospital was beyond Steve, but it was Billy--- he didn't know the guy. Not back a few weeks ago, anyway. But now he knew him, for better or for worse.

He noticed how he acted--- it wasn't as subtle as Billy probably wanted it to be. Neil called twice during his stay and Billy had refused to answer the phone, but he had noticeably flinched when he heard Neil's voice on the other end of the line. That was only the first time, but Steve noticed it and couldn't forget it.

Max said that the excuse was that Billy's 'friend' needed help with some home renovations. Evidently, it was a  _ useful and good _ thing to do for a friend, thus it wasn't a  _ waste of time _ . So he'd stay over while he  _ helped  _ Steve's family with shit. It wasn't a bad excuse. But like his parents' vacation, it couldn't last forever.

Forever, for them, was just over three weeks long.

"Yeah, right. Whatever," Billy's attitude had melted back into the regular old Billy. Asshole Billy. But Steve could tell it was a very fragile state, and not half as genuine as he had been in the last few days.

"I mean it--- I didn't mind you being here," it was easier than saying he'd  _ liked _ him sticking around.

Billy said nothing, just stared out the window, head in his hand. He hadn't said anything else by the time they got back to Steve's house. He got out of the car before Steve had even turned the car's key, and he watched as Billy, with hunched shoulders and unreadable expression, went into the house. That reminded Steve that he had his own set of keys to get in--- he didn't know why he'd given them to Billy, it wasn't like the guy went anywhere without him.

Steve sighed and let his head rest against his steering wheel. He felt defeated. It was a good five minutes before he dragged himself inside. He heard distant thumping from the guest room, but didn't bother approaching the warzone.

He was, however, a little shocked when Billy came trucking down the stairs, a backpack in one hand while the other went to the phone.

"Wh--- what are you doing?" Steve furrowed his brows, but was only ignored, asides from a pop being heard. Apparently Billy had gotten his hands on some bubblegum.

"Yeah. Can you pick me up? Harrington's place." It was said with little to no emotion. Steve wondered who Billy was talking to. Billy hadn't made even  _ one  _ phone call since staying here.

"Hey--- Hey! I can take you to your place. I was gonna do it tomorrow," he felt defensive, a little offended that Billy thought he had to call in a favor just to get out of here. Had he messed something up?

Billy had his sunglasses on. It made him unreadable, and made him feel only more frustrated. There was another  _ pop  _ and then he blew an obnoxiously big bubble. This time it was popped only a few inches from Steve's face.

"Whatever, Harrington. Thanks for having me," he dropped his backpack before he made his way to the kitchen, straight to the sink. Steve was silent as he watched him start to clean the dishes left from earlier.

"No problem," he murmured, feeling and sounding a bit empty. He thought it was weird that he hadn't been a shithead over having to drive everywhere in Steve's car, but he figured Neil was pissed, or something. Maybe Billy's meds didn't let him drive. He didn't know. He couldn't ask. But he sure as Hell wished that Billy would've just let him drive him home. In a way, he was a bit miffed about it, because he'd wanted to spend some more time with him--- but he wasn't ready to admit that. Not now, maybe not ever.

Regardless of his feelings, he heard a car pull into the driveway before long and right on time, Billy finished the last dish, oddly delicate with his actions. He pocketed the remaining pills in the dish on the counter and turned to leave. He wasn't a bad house guest, which would probably surprise most people. 

"Bye, pretty boy," Billy threw that goodbye over his shoulder and saluted to him. Steve tried to smile in response, but it quickly faded to a frown once Billy had closed the door. He sank to the floor and crossed his arms, wondering why, exactly, he felt bad about Billy leaving.

A few morbid minutes later and he was off the floor, but he felt no less weird about it all. The house suddenly felt alarmingly empty. He wasn't too thrilled about the fact that he had to go clean the guest room now, because his parents would definitely notice it having been used--- not to mention the fact that he was pretty sure they had invited at least one person over. He didn't have much of a choice, so he had to hope that he could restore everything to how it was before they'd left. Not that they'd ever been particularly observant of things, but you couldn't blame Steve for fretting.

Once he'd stripped the bed, he found himself hesitating. He held the blanket and sheets in his hands and frowned. It smelled like Billy--- not like Billy had in high school, but how he did now. Minty, with a hint of a floral scent. It was strange, when he thought about it. Billy used to drown himself in pungent cologne, though now he seemed so different.

_ Whatever. Get yourself together _ , Steve reprimanded himself, shaking his head and going back to cleaning. It was midnight by the time he rolled into bed, but he didn't feel that sleepy. He was just staring at his ceiling, uneasy at the silence of the empty house.

It was with a smack to his head that he remembered he hadn't even gotten the house keys back from Billy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: this is slow burn
> 
> steve: i think only of billy's mesmerizing eyes, his beautiful hair, and his heartwarming laugh
> 
> me: yeah i swear it's slow burn


	3. Side A, Body Of Years

It was the next weekend. Time went by fast and almost incoherently after Billy's departure, making Steve feel like he was catching up with something that was just out of reach. He tried to adjust back to his regular schedule, though life felt impossibly empty. No midnight movies. No late night talks. No sound of Billy Hargrove flipping through his magazines at 1:34 am.

Instead there was just his parents, shuffling around. Disgruntled, disappointed, or whatever the flavor of the day was. Things had been business as usual, his father didn't even notice a shift in his son's temperament. His mother had asked him if he was alright, once, when she found him staring out his bedroom window with a moderately forlorn look on his face; he didn't bother telling her anything. He didn't know if she'd understand, and he didn't know if he understood how he felt, either.

He tried, instead, to tell himself that he was going to forget about Billy, that life was just going to go back to  _ normal _ . Whatever that was. Thanksgiving had been depressing as usual, filled with mandatory laughter and acting like everything was  _ okay _ . But at least it was Saturday now, and he was set to go out with Robin in a few hours to see some movie or another---  _ finally _ , he'd have a distraction. Robin had promised to tell him about the girl she'd been hanging out with the last few weeks, and they'd have a fun night. It'd be nice. Or it  _ would've  _ been nice.

He got a phone call that startled him out of his stupor; he'd been staring at the ceiling in his room, throwing a baseball up and catching it every time, letting it fall into the palm of his hand. With little else to do, he'd expected to lay there until his alarm rang and told him to get his ass up. Instead, he was rushing out of his room as he heard his mom call out to him.

"Steve! It's Max?" His mother sounded confused, which he guessed made sense. He hadn't told his parents much about the kids, and he didn't bother explaining that string of friendships to her when he ran down the steps and grabbed the phone.

"Yeah?" He was a little out of breath, also worried. Max had called him last week, mostly because it'd become a regular thing to do, but she hadn't called him since. She radioed him every now and then, even saying she'd picked up a comic he might like, but that was about it. It was just the usual, like nothing had ever happened to change their routine. Until now, anyway.

"Uhm, Steve--- have you... seen Billy?" His heart dropped and he chewed on the inside of his cheek as he heard the question. He felt torn between two things he's used to; caring for the kids, and now, caring for Billy. He and Max hadn't really spoken about Billy since he'd left--- he'd tried to ask for Billy to come to the phone, once, but Max had claimed he wasn't home. It was almost like he'd imagined the weeks he'd had with him.

"No..." His voice was muffled as he said that, thinking hard about the last few days. He hadn't seen the Camaro around, and he also hadn't been eager to push his luck by invading Billy's space otherwise. The guy hadn't called or shown up at the video store, so he'd figured he wanted to be left alone. And that whatever friendship they'd had, if they'd ever had one, was probably over and done with. Truthfully, Steve felt pitifully naive for hoping for something to remain.

"He's--- he hasn't been home in like, two days. He found his keys and bolted," she sounded worried, but tired more than anything else. Steve wondered if she had waited up late at night to see if her brother would come home, since despite all the shit she gave Billy, she did genuinely care about him. And although Steve wanted to try and let Billy go, he couldn't help but feel the telltale hints of  _ worry  _ churn in his gut.

He heard a voice in the background, somebody cursing, and he was pretty sure it was Neil. Somehow, Steve didn't find it that shocking that Billy had wanted to fuck off from home during Thanksgiving--- or as he'd heard Billy refer to it as in high school, ' _ Shitsgiving _ _'_.

"No! It's fine, I was just asking his friend if he saw him," Max explained herself with a bit of a shake to her voice. He heard an ' _ ungrateful fucking brat _ ' from Neil and gritted his teeth. He doubted the man was talking to Max, but somehow it made it  _ worse  _ than it was about Billy.

"It's okay, Max. I'll go look for him." He didn't know where he'd go, but he wasn't just going to ignore this.  _ Or maybe it was more that he  _ ** _couldn't._ **

\---

It was past seven, and a good fifteen minutes late to his meetup with Robin when he called the new ice cream shop. Old habits died hard, and after the mall reopened ( _ technically, it wasn't even the same mall anymore _ ), they'd always go there to meet on the weekends when they were free. He knew the worker there would be able to get her to come to the phone. He had limited time, too, because he didn't have a lot of spare change and the pay phone he was using was temperamental at best. Despite having the radios on hand, Steve had gotten used to each payphone in Hawkins, always dialing frantic calls to the kids if he was paranoid. Right now, he knew he didn't have the time to call anyone else--- though for a moment or two, he did consider Tommy.

"Hey--- uh, I'm sorry, I've got a problem," he was relieved, though nervous when he heard her greet him. However, the following complete and total silence made him feel nervous.

"Is that problem named Billy Hargrove?" She took a guess and got it right, making Steve swallow nervously.

"Yeah. He... he's missing." Another pause came, this one much shorter than the one before.

"Well, search and rescue it is, then," she said it casually, like it was just another Saturday night for her. "Where are you?" She shocked him by being so ready to help, though he kind of beat himself up for thinking she'd do anything else. Robin was his best friend, of course she'd help.

"Uh, main street." He'd been driving around town casually in an effort to spot Billy, but now he had a feeling he'd have to go a little farther. Or maybe a  _ lot _ farther.

"Okay. Where do you want me to look for him?" Still, he couldn't believe how nice she was being--- especially since this was about Billy. She'd heard almost nothing good about him during their whole friendship, but here she was, willing to waste her time on him. Best friend or not, Robin was one to speak her mind, and more often than not, in a blunt manner. Right now, she seemed oddly considerate.

"Can you check the quarry? I'm gonna try some old party spots. Do you still have the---" he was cut off and then he heard Robin's voice coming from his radio this time. The kids had all insisted on giving Robin a radio to keep in contact--- she had used it a total of three times, and two of those times had been to threaten Steve for being late to work. This was the third time.

"Yeah, just because I keep it off doesn't mean I didn't listen to you nerds." She knew to keep it with her--- she'd even started carrying a purse or backpack around because of it. After everything they'd been through, she wasn't going to chance it. Even if she only turned it on when someone was late or she was particularly worried, she'd never leave it at home.

It was a small comfort among a lot of worries. Steve hung up the pay phone and rubbed a hand over his face, turning his attention back to the radio.

"Thanks."

\---

Somewhere along the way, the search and rescue became a ten-man effort. It was nine pm by the time someone suggested calling Jane.

"It's probably the best idea, over," Mike said, though he sounded  _ FAR  _ from happy about it. The idea of calling Joyce's house had Steve thinking of how Will was worried about Billy, and of every other sentiment they'd shared in the last month. Steve was really starting to feel sick to his stomach now.

"I'll call, over," Dustin volunteered, glad to help. The kids were fucking angels, at this point. There was silence that stretched on for about ten minutes, soon edging towards fifteen. It made Steve sweat and feel a bit like puking.

"She says she saw him surrounded by--- vines? over," a muffled voice could be heard, something Steve couldn't make out. "Field? over," Dustin tried to describe it, and Steve took the time to ponder what it could mean. Maybe some farmland, but why would Billy be there?

"Barn!" Dustin said that out of nowhere, startling Steve into awareness. Dustin had completely forgotten the sacred 'over', which probably told them all how serious this was getting.

"Could it be that place the high-schoolers went to party at in August? Remember that place, Steve?" Robin, who was far from a party-goer, still had a good point. They would go out to the abandoned farm a few miles outside of Hawkins to do raunchier shit, away from where the usual party spots were. Supposedly one of the kids had a grandpa who had died and now his parents owned the land. They did shit all with it.

Being there had felt like the beginning of a horror movie, so Steve hadn't stayed long.

"Maybe. I'm gonna check. Over," Steve was already turning his car back on, twisting the key and frantically letting Kate Bush blast from the speakers. He thought back to when he'd listened to the cassette with Billy and he felt his stomach churn, for what seemed like the millionth time that day.

\---

The radio had been pretty silent. Robin had gone home because her parents would be getting worried, meanwhile the kids were waiting, but didn't radio him. He had a low battery as it was, and honestly, he doubted he had the attention span to talk to anyone, right now.

He'd been driving by himself, silent and watchful. Hawkins already felt like  _ nowhere _ , but driving out of the small town made everything feel even eerier and impossibly lonely. When he got farther out of town and onto a dirt road, he saw tire tracks before he saw the car. The Camaro was deep in a field, having torn through some of the brush that had been there before. He didn't see Billy, but he doubted he'd be far from the car.

He took in a deep breath before he grabbed his bat--- what could he expect? He didn't know. Billy could be hurt or in danger, for all he knew. But for all the reasons he had to grab the bat, none of them were because he was afraid of Billy.

He got out of his car and jogged with the energy he didn't have, over to the Camaro. No Billy in it. The metal was cool and the doors were unlocked. He looked around and squinted, trying his best to see his surroundings. With a flashlight in his other hand, he pointed it here and there, trying to spot something---  _ Billy _ , hopefully.

It was with a clink and a glimmer that he noticed a pile of beer bottles spread over the ground just under the opening of the dilapidated barn. It was hardly standing and didn't offer much in the ways of warmth or shelter. It was fucking freezing out--- snow wasn't on the ground like it had been last week, but it was still  _ cold _ .

He saw Billy a few seconds later and nearly tripped over himself to get closer.

"Billy?!" He couldn't contain his worry, even if he felt like he was making an absolute ass of himself. Billy was leaned against the inside of the barn, sitting there like it wasn't less than forty degrees out. He looked out of it, but Steve, with great relief, could at least see that he was breathing.

He got close enough to crouch down in front of him, trying to reach for Billy's hand, and then---

" ** _Boo_ ** ."

He got the piss nearly scared out of him. He cursed and fell on his ass, eyes wide. Billy had looked like he was asleep, not gearing up to be a fucking prick.

"What the fuck, man?" Steve whined, noticing that he'd dropped his flashlight and it had rolled away. His car headlights were on, so for the time-being he could at least see a little bit of what was going on.

"What're you doing here, Harrington?" A casual question, like he hadn't been missing for forty-eight-fucking-hours. Despite the casual nature of his words, he sounded exhausted.

"What're  _ you  _ doing here, Hargrove?" He spat the question back at the curly-haired boy, better known as a  _ disaster _ \--- and Steve was already able to smell the stench of a thousand-too-many-beers on his breath. Far as he knew, he probably shouldn't be drinking while taking his meds. He knew that pointing that out was a lost cause, but the realization made him feel a surge of panic.

"That's my business. I'm a big boy, Steve," and Steve, for all he was worth, felt like a moron when his heart fluttered. Billy didn't call him  _ Steve _ , not usually.

"It's the business of more than just  _ you  _ if you go missing, asshole," Steve crossed his arms and resigned to sitting there for a few minutes.

"Who cares?"

Steve stared at him. He ran the words over in his head. And as much as he wanted to curse Billy out, he realized that he was genuinely asking that. His blue eyes looked sad for a split second and Steve frowned.

"Uh... well, Max did. She was worried," he winced when Billy laughed a little too loudly at that answer. For all of Billy's theatrics, Steve still noticed when Billy made a pained expression and clutched at his stomach.

"Yeah, right. Just doesn't want Neil bitching and moaning all weekend. Probably wants to go out with her  _ boyfriend _ ," Billy rolled his eyes and pursed his lips before licking at them, clicking his tongue afterwards. He made a face, presumably at the taste on his tongue. Steve guessed it had to taste like cheap beer, because that's all that surrounded Billy at the moment.

"Think what you want, Hargrove. But she was worried." He paused, unsure of what to tell Billy. He knew that if Robin saw him, she'd mention her antics in helping Steve. And the kids? They had lips about as tight as the damn leaky pipe in the video store's bathroom.

"It wasn't just Max. The other kids were worried, too." He didn't mention Jane and Will, because he couldn't explain that shit very well. He hadn't breached the subject of the Mindflayer with Billy and it was better kept that way, probably.

"Robin even offered to help. Looked for you around town, too." Billy finally had his eyes on him and Steve's mouth felt dry. There was a good minute of silence between them, which Steve found to be massively uncomfortable. Billy's expression was unreadable.

"How'd you even find me?" He said that like he hadn't wanted to be found, and Steve believed that.

"Lucky guess," he lied, but he did it well enough that Billy didn't say anything else for a few seconds.

"What you gonna do, Harrington? Drag me back?" He was an eloquent drunk, which was a surprise. But there was some sense of finality to his question, and the unreadable mask fell for a moment, showing Steve how much he  _ didn't  _ want to go home.

"No," Steve said, without any prior thought behind it, and before he could think any better of it, he added, "I'll take you back to my place."

The words sent a ripple of shock through both him  _ and  _ Billy.

"Damn. Sounds awful romantic," Billy was being sarcastic, but Steve had felt himself blushing before he'd even replied. Like an idiot, as usual, he couldn't control himself. He'd hated the cold for the last few minutes, but now he was just grateful that his red cheeks could be counted as a product of the chill.

_ God, he was in deep. _

\---

"You better be fuckin' sober tomorrow, man. I want my car back," Steve had tried to get Billy into his, but the asshole refused and acted like he was actively being wronged. He threw out a bunch of shit about how his car was  _ better  _ and that he wasn't gonna leave his  ** _baby _ ** all alone.

Steve had just rolled his eyes, grabbed Billy by the back of his jacket, and swayed him to the Camaro's passenger side. Billy, graceful as a fucking swan, threw the keys at his head. He couldn't stop the surprised noise from leaving his throat, like a yelp, but more pathetic, as the keys bounced off his head.

It sent Billy into fucking hysterics. At least  _ he  _ found it funny. Steve felt vaguely happy about Billy's laughter, but he immediately crushed that train of thought as he got into the car. He still heard Billy's muffled laughing fit, and it was a long minute before Billy clumsily got into the car.

It was going to be long,  _ long _ night.

\---

Upon waking up, Billy knew only one thing; he felt like  ** _shit_ ** . He wasn't too surprised about that. He was more surprised when he rolled over, noticed he wasn't in his house or his car, and that none other than Steve Harrington was on the fucking floor.

He was in Steve's room.

He needed a solid few seconds to process that, though with his raging headache, that became a chore. The sunlight peaking in past the curtains made him wish he was still asleep.

A soft snore caught his attention and he peered down to Steve, who was in an awkward position; left arm flung over his face, covering his eyes, legs splayed out bizarrely, his other arm stretched above his head.

Billy dropped a pillow on him and he woke up fast, jerking into a wobbly sitting position.

"Wha'?" He looked so tired. So confused. Billy could compare the look he was getting to that of a dog that had been scolded or surprised.

"Wakey wakey, Harrington," he said, as if that were normal. He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and got up; nearly fell back onto the bed, but to his credit, he caught himself and avoided looking too shaken up.

"Mmmm..." Steve groaned, letting the pillow stay on top of his face once he laid back down. Billy nudged him with his foot. It was an odd moment to share. He could hear Steve continue his mumbling, before quietly asking, "wha' time is it?" In response, Billy glared in the direction of Steve's alarm clock.

"Eleven," Billy yawned after he said that.

"Parents aren't here. Do whatever you want." Steve rolled over, like being on the floor was  _ comfortable _ , and seemed to go right back to sleep.

Billy didn't argue. He made his way downstairs; even though he'd been gone for over a week, it still felt---

_ no _ , it didn't feel like home. He couldn't think that. Fuck, he could never  _ say  _ it.

He occupied himself by rifling through the fridge, seeing what they had. It wasn't a whole lot, but there were eggs and part of a package of bacon left. Billy double-checked and saw some milk, too.

With a hangover and a headache to cheer him on, he couldn't help but think of how he was making Steve's life difficult. The guy had work today and he still wasted his entire night looking for Billy's predominantly ungrateful ass.

It was hard to show gratitude. Billy didn't like feeling the obligation--- he didn't like people doing shit for him. He felt like if he owed somebody something, it just ruined everything. Made him wonder what they'd want in return.

So he figured the best thing to do was to settle his debt. He made breakfast--- and by the grace of whatever god there may or may not be, Billy Hargrove got scrambled eggs, pancakes, and bacon onto a plate. Nothing burnt. Nothing overcooked. Looked pretty fucking good, in his opinion. Tasted even better.

Steve wasn't one for eating outside of the kitchen. He was like a fucking mom. Nagging all day and night if you tried to eat something in a place you shouldn't. But it was Billy's gift, so it was by Billy's rules that he'd deliver it.

He brought the plate up to Steve's room and poked a socked foot against Steve's side again.

"Wake up, sleeping beauty," he became more insistent now, pushing at Steve enough so that he rolled over while groaning.

"Is that food?" Typical Harrington. Billy had learned that if you made food, Steve was at least a little less of a bitch in the mornings. Or afternoons. He had a shitty sleeping schedule. Which, surely, he did not help with.

"Yeah, shithead. Get up and eat before it gets cold." Now  _ he  _ sounded like the mom. Steve was staring up at him and after a few seconds ticked by, he gave the most shit eating grin he'd ever seen him make.

"Nice look," Steve said, and Billy, hungover and half out of his mind, remembered that he was wearing some floral printed fucking apron that he'd found. Sober Billy wouldn't do that, but hungover Billy wasn't so aware.

"Shut up, Harrington," it was said with little malice, but he was flustered enough that he didn't look at Steve again. Steve didn't even complain about the food being in his room when he was handed the plate. But he did look surprised when Billy took the apron off, balled it up, and threw it in his face, though.

"Hey! That looked good on you. Keep it if you want, mom never uses it," it was a joke, but Billy heard some truth in the words. He felt a little agitated. He hated the implication that he'd willingly wear that shit.

But for once, he didn't lash out. Instead he caught the apron when it was tossed back at him. He put it in the laundry, went downstairs, and decided to eat his breakfast. A few minutes in, Steve came down the stairs and joined him, eating the rest of his food in a comfortable silence.

"I'll drive you to work. ... and get someone to drive your car to the store later."

"Oh. Thanks," Steve said, like he even had to. It was Billy's fault that the damn car was in the middle of nowhere.

"Yeah." Billy didn't say anything for a bit, but he managed to choke out an eventual, " _ thanks, Harrington _ ," when they were in the car together.

Steve only smiled at him and shrugged, laughing a little.

"I know."


	4. Side A, You Might Think

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a long one, my fellow gays

It was a little weird to see Donnie Swan roll up to the video store in his BMW, but he'd seen weirder in the last few months. He didn't even question it, though he briefly scrunched his nose up when he saw Tommy pull up next to him and get out. For a second, it felt like it was only yesterday that he'd been driving  _ Tommy  _ around.

But that wasn't the case, and he had to put on however-a-hesitant smile as Tommy came into the video store, pushing at Donnie's shoulder and laughing at whatever they'd been talking about beforehand. Tommy aimed a  _ look _ at Steve and winked, tossing him his keys once he got close enough. Steve only fumbled a  _ little _ bit, so he called that a success.

"Hargrove asked us to help you out," of course, Tommy seemed intrigued by how the  _ fuck _ Steve's car had ended up at the abandoned farm, but he surely wasn't going to ask. He just raised an eyebrow and shrugged, going off to one of the back aisles of the video store. He barely even gave Steve the time to thank him--- though he figured, Billy probably had already done that. Maybe it was for the better, Steve thought; he pocketed his keys and sighed, continuing to go through his pile of tapes, feeling mocked by the  _ be kind, rewind! _ stickers that always went ignored.

A few minutes later, Steve heard abrupt laughter and glanced over to  _ just _ catch sight of Donnie jumping onto Tommy's back. He didn't stay there for long, but he still laughed, which made Tommy struggle to tilt his head.

"What? What are you laughing about?" He furrowed his brows, standing back up straight when Donnie hopped off of his back.

"I didn't get any taller! You're so  _ tiny _ ," Donnie's laughs were still loud, and evidently infectious, because Steve snorted and then cleared his throat when Tommy glared in his direction. Tommy had always been touchy over the subject of his height. He must be a lot more fond of Donnie than Steve thought, if he let him say that.

"You asshole--- come here!" Donnie was laughing heartily and hysterically as Tommy got him into a headlock. Donnie began to flail and it was kind of an amusing sight, not that Steve was new to it--- he'd once been the one getting put into the headlock, though he'd never really dared to openly make fun of Tommy like that. It was kind of funny to watch, though, and he couldn't help but smile when Tommy let go of Donnie and they both looked so---  _ happy _ .

"Let's go," Donnie said, before smirking and adding on, " _ hobbit _ ," to which Tommy glared at him, jabbing him in the side and threatening to put him back into the headlock. But he was spared, and Donnie put down a tape to rent on the counter.

"Since you're paying, I'm getting chocolate pretzels," Tommy snatched a bag of them, tossing it so it'd land next to the tape.

"Can't you get regular?" Donnie asked, cocking an eyebrow up.

"I want those ones?" Tommy narrowed his eyes, and as Steve looked between them, he wondered if he was about to get into the middle of  _ something _ again. 

"Your hips don't," Donnie said, matter-of-factly, and Tommy's cheeks burst into a blush as he  _ thwacked _ Donnie's arm, scowling and turning to cross his arms. "Not my fault you're gonna have bigger tits than Selena," Donnie added, which made Tommy grab at Donnie's side, procuring a yelp as Donnie dropped his wallet on the floor. There was another jab given to Donnie's ribs and Steve heard Donnie snort and laugh as he batted at Tommy's hands. They were such an odd duo, but not much had changed about them. They were like the one constant in this shitty town.

It was comforting, in a way.

\---

This time, Billy called him. Only twice a week, at first. But then it became more and more frequent, and he found that Billy still came to the video store. He'd bring Max there after school, which Steve figured was a good enough excuse--- because Billy tried to pass it off as just being  _ coincidence _ that he was there.

But Billy also came over to his house a handful of times, mostly to steal a few of his cassette tapes without asking. Steve didn't really mind it--- Billy left behind ones of his own, always saying, ' _ so you know I ain't stealing them. _ '

Steve knew he never would. But it was a gesture he wasn't used to when it came from Billy. He wasn't always polite, but he had his moments of social clarity. Steve decided to go with the flow, and he even listened to the tapes Billy left behind. It was kind of nice, it made him feel closer to Billy, in a way. He'd never shared much with his other friends, which was a lonely realization he had.

A few years ago, he would've never anticipated this. Him, and Billy Hargrove, hanging out whenever they had the free time. It felt casual--- natural. Like they'd done this for years. It was comfortable, a thing he didn't expect to describe their friendship as. It was like it was always meant to be this way--- just as right as him and Robin being friends, or him driving the kids around. Speaking of that, Billy was apparently allowed to drive the Camaro now--- even if Steve only really saw him driving it when he had Max, or had dropped her off somewhere.

They sometimes went to the arcade together, too. A few times, Billy had even dragged him inside--- Billy wasn't a huge fan of the games, or so he said, but he was decent at more than a few of them. He claimed that beating Max's highscores was fun, because she'd always get mad at him. Suited the name she used, too--- ' _ MADMAX _ '. Billy's name was  _ FCKTHS _ , usually. It was fun to watch him get all focused on a game, like nothing else existed. Steve didn't seem to realize that he was doing the same, but to  _ Billy _ .

He found himself spending more time around the kids, too. Billy was surprisingly involved with the lot of them. On a few occasions, they saw Donnie and Tommy at the arcade, and despite Steve's initial worries, they all got along. Or they got along as well as they could when they weren't purposefully seeking each other out.

Meanwhile, Robin didn't hang out with them when they did most of the stuff with the kids, but she'd made brief conversation with Billy a few times at the video store. She seemed paranoid around him, which Steve understood. Steve didn't expect her to like Billy, but at least she accepted him and seemed to like him to some extent. For some reason, that calmed Steve's nerves--- it made him feel  _ good _ , that Robin seemed to approve of Billy. He was reluctant to think too much on the reason  _ why _ .

\---

A week before Christmas, Steve pulled the trigger and asked if Billy would come over for the party he was hosting. Joyce, Will, and Jane were going to be visiting, and even if Billy was almost certainly going to be dropping Max off, it didn't mean he'd stay. Steve's parents weren't going to be at home much, not until the day after Christmas, and then they'd be gone again before New Years for some kind of event.

It was the perfect holiday, as far as Steve was concerned. He was excited to see the Byers', and to have all his other friends coming over, too. He'd be even happier if he got to see Billy, too. He figures, on shaky terms or not, it'd be  _ rude _ not to invite Billy. That's what he tells himself, anyway--- it's easier to fool himself, if he comes up with excuses.

And luck was one his side, apparently; Billy agreed, and it felt like a relief. Like Steve had been holding his breath. He kind of had been, when he'd asked. He'd been standing behind the counter at the video store, digging his nails into the palm of his hand as he tried to look Billy in the eye. There was a very brief, but very intense pause between his question and Billy's answer.

"Sure. ... thanks. But I'm not bringing anything," he smirked, while Steve sighed and shook his head.

"Whatever, just bring yourself. And Max, obviously."

"Awe, you mean I can't leave her out of the festivities? Damn." Billy's grin made his heart skip a beat, and he rolled his eyes, looking away. When he looked back, from the corner of his eye, he saw how Billy's expression had softened to something sweeter, a piece of gum slipped between his lips. Steve almost swore he saw Billy wink at him, but he didn't think much on it.

\---

It was Christmas time. Everything was chaos.

Steve had picked up another job, this time at the mall. He helped to run one of the kiosks for hair care. He swore by the products while he was there, but he'd rather die than let any of it hit his own hair.

It was rough. He was tired. He didn't even get to see Billy while he worked there--- Billy hadn't set foot in the new mall, as far as he knew. Steve got why, because he'd been pretty damn hesitant to enter the place when it'd opened, too. But it was different. More mundane. A lot less fun than Starcourt, but hey,  _ Russians weren't holed away underground, at least ! _

He had seen some of his past friends while working, though. That'd been entertainment in and of itself, and Carol had even stopped by to listen to his whole spiel, though at the end she just laughed and patted his arm, giving him pointers as to how to draw people in. The worst part of that was that his boss offered  _ Carol _ a job after that. But it was kind of nice, to talk to her again, and at least the job wasn't for forever. Then again, he was pretty sure any job he got was one he'd eventually lose.

Jane and Will would be coming up, soon. Obviously, Joyce too. Jonathan had something going on with work, so Nancy had decided to suck it up and drive all the way to see him. With Steve's parents busy and only home every now and then, flitting in and out of the house, Steve had managed to convince them to let Joyce and the kids stay. Luckily there weren't any arguments. Will was gonna stay in his room, and Joyce and Jane would stay in the guest room. The party wasn't until the day after tomorrow, so Steve was pretty excited just to get home and relax.

This was his last shift--- ever--- on this godforsaken job. All he wanted to do was snag his bag full of carefully-purchased gifts and get the fuck out of the hellhole so creatively named  _ Hawkins Merry-Mall _ . He got his wish within a half hour, when he was let off early since he was scaring customers away because of his shitty attitude.

He was never more excited to be running in the slippery snow. He booked it to his car and was out of the parking lot as fast as possible. Most people were inside, so the parking spaces were taken up, but the parking lot itself wasn't gummed up with traffic. No one was leaving or driving around, so he didn't have to worry. He was relieved that the traffic was so minimal. He looked at his watch, knowing he was expecting Joyce around six pm. It was December 22nd, only just past five-thirty pm. His car was cold as all Hell.

It was perfect.

\---

He really didn't expect what he saw when he finally got home. There were cars all around his house, at the edge of the street and in his driveway--- and not just any cars, one was the Camaro, a sore thumb among less glamorous cars. Steve felt his heart skip a few beats as he blinked, observing the chaos. Lights were on, people were crowded into his house--- and his parents weren't even home, yet. One of the cars was on its way out--- Dustin's mother, who waved at him as he got out of his car.

"Hope you don't mind, Harrington. The kids forced me to let them in," Billy shrugged as Steve came inside, shaking from the cold. He kicked his shoes off and looked around, eyebrows raised. Lucas, Max, and Mike were in his living room. They'd dragged out the decorations--- how the fuck had they found them?--- and Nancy looked like she was on her way out.

"Hey, Steve. Billy said you were okay with this?" She eyed Billy like he was an explosive. He gave her a toothy grin that made her shiver. He doubted she liked being near Billy, but Steve didn't really give a shit. Christmas wasn't the time to justify why a dude who'd nearly knocked his teeth out was in his living room.

"I mean, I don't think I'd have a choice even if I was given it, Nance. It's fine." He sighed and decided not to freak out. He was going to invite everyone over anyway, it was just a little jarring for them all to be there before he got home.

"Well, the kids brought stuff for you. I've got to go, though," she almost looked like she wanted to give him a hug, but Steve had already turned and started to walk to the kitchen. He wasn't in the mood to have things be any more awkward.

"Yeah, have fun with Jonathan, Nancy. Merry Christmas," it was a genuine farewell as he turned to wave and smile at her. She looked a little upset, though that could be because Billy was practically glaring at her. She was out the door without another word and Steve nearly walked into Dustin.

"Hey, Steve!" He was cheery, definitely because he'd be seeing his friends for the first time in months. "My mom made tons of cookies and stuff. Mrs. Wheeler made us all sandwiches." What a relief--- Steve had been about to try and pull together a half-assed dinner. He let out a breath he'd probably been holding for longer than necessary. It was also nice to see Dustin in a good mood, because Steve knew he'd recently broken up with his girlfriend. Turned out, long distance wasn't really for them.

"Nice, Henderson. Saved me a lot of work, there. You gonna go decorate?" It'd been a while since he'd felt so casual with Dustin, but he felt better as he snatched the kid's cap and watched him try to grab it. Once he got it back, he whacked Steve with it.

"Uh,  _ hell  _ yeah," and off he went. Now Steve was in the kitchen, looking over the snacks the kids had brought over. He saw a lone plate of gingerbread, and Billy eyeing it.

"Susan made that. ' _ For Max's Friends _ _'_," he rolled his eyes. "They're decent enough." Billy sounded a bit pissed, which didn't surprise Steve too much.

"I'm gonna go get changed," he said, moving past Billy to go upstairs.

It was gonna be a long night.

\---

Billy leaned against the doorframe, looking comfortable as could be. He'd wandered upstairs a few minutes after Steve had. Steve felt it a little awkward, since he was changing his shirt, but Billy didn't seem to give a shit. He had no concept of personal space or privacy, anyway.

"You gonna live through the night, Harrington? You look like shit."

_ Ah, now he felt even  _ ** _better_ ** _ . _

"Oh,  ** _thanks_ ** ," he said that in a mockingly grateful tone of voice, rolling his eyes as he pulled his shirt on and patted it down. "I'll be fine. Thanks for your concern,  _ honey _ ," he'd said it before he'd really thought about it. He froze for a second, but didn't see Billy's expression change.

"Then get downstairs, bitch."

\---

Billy had disappeared at some point. Steve was pretty sure he'd gotten a beer and fucked off. Joyce had arrived like a half hour ago and he hadn't seen Billy since ten minutes before that. Once he got in a big hug with Jane and Will, and of course Joyce, he went off to find where Billy was.

Not outside. The Camaro wasn't on and no fresh tracks were in the snow. So he went upstairs and his third guess was right; after the guest room, he checked his own room, and there Billy was, sitting on his bed, sipping at a beer as he flipped through a magazine. He knew better than to argue over him drinking--- besides, it was just one beer.

"Hey. You gonna come down? Pretty sure Max was asking about where you went."

"Yeah, right. I'll come down in a bit. Can't escape the shitheads forever." He had to drive them all home, after all. He wasn't a fucking prick--- not anymore, anyway. He wasn't going to force Steve to do that. Steve looked like he was about to fall asleep standing up.

Steve only flashed him a smile--- something a bit more  _ impish  _ than usual. Billy seemed to find it a little distressing to have Steve grab his hand and drag him down the stairs. Why he had to do that  _ right  _ that instant was a mystery. Billy wasn't too thrilled, but at least it wasn't so bad down there. The kids were having fun, and Will's mom had her feet up on the sofa.

Robin, meanwhile, was stranded with her parents in some other state, since they'd wanted to travel to see Robin's grandparents. She wasn't going to be home until the first week of January, which was a little depressing for Steve. But the kids promised to put aside gifts for her--- Joyce was going to make a mini-photo album of pictures taken at the mall, and it'd be Robin's gift. Steve thought she'd like that.

It was a pretty nice night, all in all. Jane hadn't been around, Steve realized, until she and Max came giggling into the living room and he recognized her absence beforehand.

He didn't know it, but he became tense as he spotted Billy, who finally saw Jane for the first time since Starcourt. The tension was palpable, unspeakable, and no one said anything about it. The silence was sacred.

\---

Sometime later in the night, the two of them disappeared to go outside. Billy for a smoke. Jane for Billy.

"You are okay?"

He couldn't help but chuckle.

"Yeah. Thanks, kid." He paused and thought everything over; his memories, of what had happened a few months ago.

"... no, really. Thanks. For what you did." He didn't know what she'd done, exactly, but she'd saved him. She'd saved all of them. And in payment, he didn't mention the weird shit he'd witnessed--- it was like an unspoken promise among the lot of them. Not to talk about all the weird shit that'd happened.

She smiled at him, like she couldn't crack him in half with whatever bizarre powers she had. He didn't feel scared, though. That was the weirdest thing of all.

"You did the saving, Billy. You gave us time." She was adamant, nodding. She didn't adore him or anything, but she'd seen his pain. She understood it. More than anyone else did.

An uncomfortable silence followed before she quietly asked, "does he still hurt you?"

And Billy didn't know what to do. He tensed. No one else was around, he didn't have to lie. They already had secrets, she knew everything about him, so what difference would this make? It was both a comfort and a curse.

"Yeah. He does." He said it in a small voice, something that belonged to a little boy--- not a full grown ass Billy Hargrove. It was as if he was afraid of saying it aloud.

Jane touched his free hand and then took it, bumping against his side as her arm went around his.

“It’s… it’s not often,” Billy added that, though it was a lie.

Jane seemed to give him the benefit of the doubt and simply said, "we're here for you."

He wished they weren't. He was used to being alone. He'd pass it off on the coldness, but he was shaking. Jane knew why, and so did he, but they didn't say anything.

"You're a good fuckin' kid. Too good for that Mike guy." He was mostly kidding as he ruffled her hair. It was shorter than it was before, way shorter than his own. It looked cute. But with a pang that spread in his chest, he wondered if she was teased for it.  _ Dyke  _ was a word that came to mind, and he hated that it did. He gritted his teeth and looked away. He tried to think of anything else.

"Mike is an idiot. But he's good." She smiled up at him, as if unaware of all of the vile things that swam around in his head. He had a feeling she knew more about him than he himself did.

"Yeah. I bet he is." He effectively ended the conversation by tossing his cigarette into a planter filled with snow. He'd get it out of there later.  _ Maybe _ . For now, he went inside.

An hour passed by and he was soon met in the kitchen by Jane, who looked a little unnerved.

"You were really strong, Billy," she'd come out of nowhere; all he'd wanted to do was get another beer. He wasn't expecting a continuation of their conversation, but he looked down at her with a curious and cautious gaze.

"... Will, you know. Will... had it happen, too," she didn't look happy to be telling him this. Billy didn't know half the shit these kids did--- probably didn't know half of what Steve knew, either. He didn't like asking questions.

"Will couldn't control himself much," Jane said, coming closer and giving him a sympathetic look. "I don't think you wanted to do what you did." It was not a question to be answered, it was a statement, her faith given to him with no consequence.

His throat burned, like it usually did before he'd cry.

"I--- yeah. I didn't. I didn't... want to do that shit," he muttered that out, barely loud enough for her to hear.

Her hand was on his arm again, before she gave him a tentative hug. It was awkward, but he accepted it, even melted into it.

"You're not all bad, Billy," Jane said, in her usual Jane-like way. She was a strange kid. Billy kind of liked her. And deep down, he knew he wouldn't be here without her. He both resented and loved her for it. He knew the kids would never forget the shit he'd done, and he had no clue how much Jane had told them when it came to the shit she knew--- but they didn't hate him, at least. He could live with that.

"Thanks. You ain't so bad yourself, kid," he tried to lighten the mood and she caught on, smiling, even if sadly, before she pulled on his arm. She wanted him to go back to the living room, so he did, and of all things, he felt relief for some reason.

\---

Steve wasn't exactly sure of when Dustin had broken up with Suzie, which did admittedly make him feel a little guilty. They didn't radio anymore, as far as he knew, but they still sent letters to each other. Though Steve expected him to be all torn up, no matter the amount of time since the break-up, Dustin was much more excited to talk about what he'd been doing with Will--- they'd decided to send short stories to each other, since they couldn't play Dungeons and Dragons from hundreds of miles away. Dustin said it was ' _ like playing the game, but better _ ', and Mike and Lucas had rolled their eyes. Dustin and Will had their shared letters in a pile on the coffee table and for an hour or two, it was the topic of conversation; they'd reenact dramatic scenes together, which surprisingly, everyone seemed to enjoy--- or at least tolerate. No one was going to be harsh to the two of them. They were having too much fun.

Despite his exhaustion, Steve even agreed to let Dustin stay over. He'd abandon his bedroom and sleep on the couch, just let the two kids do whatever they wanted. They'd keep him awake, anyway, so he figured it was a better decision to just let the chaos have its designated zone.

\---

The hours dragged on. It was almost ten pm. Whatever buzz Billy had gotten from the beers he drank was long gone and he was getting a little antsy. He wanted to leave, preferably before Neil called. Lucas and Mike's parents would be understanding when it came to how late they were going to be--- this was, after all, the first time that Will and Jane had been back since they'd moved--- but Neil didn't carry any of that sentimentality.

The living room was still vibrant despite the time, though people were getting more lazy and tired. Someone brought up Steve and how he'd been in high school; it made Steve tense and look a little off. No one seemed to notice. A few accusations of assholery flew around the room, mostly from the kids. Steve laughed it off, but Billy caught him with a somewhat sad look in his eyes. Billy decided to seek out a little space from the crowd, at that point.

"Hey, Harrington. Help me shovel some snow," Billy patted a hand against Steve's shoulder, eyeing him so he knew he wasn't getting out of it.

"Sure, let me get ready to freeze to death," he made a show of not wanting to go out, though he seemed relieved to be gone from the living room. The gathering had been fun overall, but it was plain to see that it was becoming overwhelming. So there weren't any  _ real _ complaints as they got their coats, scarves, and gloves. In silence, they grabbed two shovels from a nearby closet and went outside to get to work.

"You know," Billy said, shattering the icy silence, "you sure seemed like a fuckin' good guy. Born n' bred. Like,  _ too  _ nice." It took Steve a few seconds to realize what he was referring to, and he sighed.

"No. I was pretty shitty, a while ago," Steve frowned, obviously thinking of those times.

"Wasn't much of a good anything, actually," and Billy had a feeling that sentiment was related to Nancy. Billy furiously shoveled some snow, thinking over what he wanted to say.

"Not your fault if the bi---" he cut himself off when Steve glared pointedly at him. "If the  _ Wheeler Girl _ decided she didn't like your dick or whatever." He averted his gaze, shoveling some more. "Didn't she cheat on you, anyway? Why's that your fault?"

"..." Steve was quiet, just focused on what they were doing, trying to keep his mind off of things.

"Maybe if I'd been a better boyfriend, she wouldn't have done that," he reasoned, like that made any fucking sense.

They were about done shoveling their way to Billy's Camaro, so Billy had the free hand to clap down onto Steve's shoulder. He looked deep into those dark eyes.

"Stop being a fuckin' idiot, Harrington. Girls, chicks, bitches, whatever. They do what they want. Just like we can. Not your problem if a girl lies to you or does something shitty." The words seemed comforting, in a way. Unexpected, and uncharacteristic to Billy, but nice all the same.

"Okay, wow. Thanks for the pep talk, I guess," Steve shrugged him off, regardless of the success Billy had had with making him feel better. His cheeks were bright red, though neither of them knew if it was from the cold or not. Billy laughed, in a very mischievous kind of way, and then they went back inside to warm up. Billy had turned his car on so it wouldn't be a damn icebox when he had to drive everyone home. 

Of course, herding all of the kids into the car was easier said than done.

\---

They went out the next day, by the insistence of the kids. Steve had hoped not to set foot in the mall until next year, but they had other ideas. He bitched and moaned something fierce.  _ Until Billy showed up, anyway. _

"Okay, kids. Get the fuck in the car already," he looked about as excited as Steve probably did, but when he caught sight of Steve--- who currently wore sweatpants that had to be at least two sizes too big, and a hideous green t-shirt--- Billy smirked. Steve's hair looked like a damn mess, but Billy wouldn't say it looked bad. It took a lot for Steve Harrington to look bad, and he wasn't sure if he ever really had. There was a slightly mortified expression on his face, like he hadn't expected Billy to show up in his house at that moment.

"Nice look, Harrington. Going to a photoshoot, princess?" Billy relished the positively  ** _pissed _ ** look that Steve gave him. He was already on his way up the stairs, making a very big show of stomping away.

"Oh, come on, Billy. It's Christmas," Max smacked his arm and glared up at him.

"Yeah, shitstain, and I'm driving you like you asked. Be grateful I'm here."

"Like you don't come here a shit ton as is, Billy," she rolled her eyes and marched past him, getting her hat and gloves off the nearby table before putting her coat back on. Billy didn't know how to feel about that implication, but he just shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets.

All the kids were on their way out. Dustin had Steve's keys, and everyone piled into the cars. A few seconds after the last kid left, Steve came down the steps. He wore jeans that Billy swore were tighter than usual, and a plain, maroon sweater. Hair all big and dramatic as always. He had crossed arms as he glared at Billy wordlessly.

Not about to let Steve hold a grudge, he opted for distracting him.

"Come on, Cinderella," Billy grabbed Steve's hand in his, used his other hand to grab the guys jacket, and pulled him out the door.

\---

The car ride was nice, but distantly Steve kind of wished that he had Billy in his passenger seat. Nothing against Dustin, but he'd gotten used to Billy's presence. It wasn't so bad, though. He liked having Will and Dustin in his car; they got to talk about whatever nerdy shit they wanted.

Billy, meanwhile, was the chaperone to two very different couples facing the same problem.

"We're so gonna take pictures, Jay. We've got to! They added a new photobooth by the pretzel place," Max was gushing to Jane, while Lucas and Mike looked a little gloomy. Probably jealous and wishing that their girlfriends were paying attention to them.

Didn't help that Billy had forced Lucas into the front passenger seat.

"Man, this is gonna be so boring," Lucas had his arms crossed as he stared out the window.

"Yeah, man. It's what you do for girls," Billy, who was hospitable for once in his life, gave him an almost sympathetic look. But then he followed it up with the warning of, "you better be treating my sister right."

Lucas rolled his eyes and stared at him.

"When haven't I? You're the one that's had the problems."

"Hey. I'm her brother. It's my job to say that shit. You want Neil up your ass instead?"

"Good point."

"Hey, Billy, can you drop us off at the main entrance?" Max leaned forward to poke her head closer to his. Her red hair was annoying, and Billy felt like a bull tempted with a red flag.

"Sure, your highness. Would you like me to roll out the red carpet?"

"Shut up."

\---

Billy hadn't been in the mall, not since July. It had been renovated and wasn't even the same--- it was like, half the size it was before. Wasn't Starcourt anymore. The little businesses that had suffered thanks to Starcourt, were now fixtures of the new mall, and the town seemed less hostile about it.

But it didn't change the fact that it was still, roughly, where he'd almost died.

Billy took a good few minutes to even will himself to go into the place. Steve hadn't been so lucky in finding parking close to the entrance, so he showed up about five minutes after all the kids had gone inside.

He tried to make it seem casual, like he wasn't going in  _ just  _ because Steve was there. But Steve, for as much as a dumbass as he could be, was giving him a knowing look. This was rough. Even if the mall wasn't the same--- wasn't half as nice as Starcourt and was rebuilt--- it just wasn't a place he wanted to be.

Yet, Billy was the asshole who'd insisted on going. Max had tried to talk him out of it, saying that it was okay to to stay home, or do whatever he wanted. For some reason, he had felt a burning desire that compelled him to still set foot in the cursed place.

So, he finally did. He was next to Steve when he got inside, his heartbeat roaring in his ears. He ditched Steve after a few seconds, desperate for some form of a distraction. He found it in perusing the stores, though he had no desire to buy anything.

He felt like this was going to be a long day.

\---

"Hey, Harrington. Let's go." It wasn't a request, it was a demand made as Billy came out of nowhere, startling Steve. Billy's hand grabbed at the sleeve of his sweater--- Steve sorely became aware of how they weren't holding hands like they had been earlier.

Steve was almost disappointed, but he got distracted when he was shoved into the photobooth that Jane and Max had just gotten out of.

"What the Hell, Billy?" Steve mumbled that as he was crowded into the seat. Steve looked grumpy, until Billy put his money into the machine and the pictures were about to be taken. Billy gave him a cocky look, ruffled his hair, and enjoyed the shocked gasp and offended look that he got.

Then it was all theatrics. Billy poking fun at Steve. Devious grins, hands put into his hair just to piss Steve off--- except it didn't piss him off. He almost seemed to like it. Billy was a fucking asshole; kept making faces that made Steve want to laugh. He had to bite his tongue a few times to avoid doing that.

Then they were out of the booth. Billy acted like a veteran to the photobooth game and he divided the pictures between them, like it was a completely normal day.

"Merry Christmas, shithead."

"Oh, thanks. Merry Christmas, asshole." Steve rolled his eyes, pretended that he was pissed or something, but he couldn't keep a smile off his face. Neither could Billy, so they looked like a pair of idiots.

"Let's go find the kids," Steve didn't go for Billy's hand, but instead grabbed the sleeve of his jacket, just like how Billy had with him. That seemed okay to do, since Billy just laughed and followed after him.

\---

After a long day of wrangling the kids, both Billy and Steve were exhausted, it was now almost the end of their activities for the next few days. The lot of them were parked at the pizzeria in town, and Steve caught sight of a very disgruntled Tommy who took their orders. He knew Tommy worked there--- usually as a driver--- but it's the first time he'd seen him at the restaurant and not pissed off and handing him a pizza at his door.

It wasn't awkward, though. Tommy just looked as eager as Steve felt, to go  _ home _ . He can't blame him. He did give a  _ somewhat _ friendly greeting to him and Billy, even if he hadn't been keen on chatting. That was fine by Steve, and Billy. They both had settled at the back of the restaurant, but no amount of distance could drown out the chattering going on among the kids, even if they were quite a few tables away.

"Doesn't it feel weird, dragging her brother around?" Billy referred to Mike with a gesture, of course, and while Mike was far from everyone's favorite in the Party, he wasn't bad. Neither was Nancy, or so Steve liked to convince himself.

"Not really. Sorta used to it, I guess," Steve shrugged, all casual, though Billy didn't seem convinced. He just sighed and shook his head, turning his gaze back to the rest of the restaurant, watching as a few girls walked by, listening to them giggle. Once they had passed, Billy had an odd look on his face.

"They used to say you were popular, but I haven't seen you with a girl,  _ ever, _ " far from subtle, Billy raised a brow and leaned over the table, just a little. "Were you ever the ladies man the school made you out to be? Or was it all talk?" It's the first time Billy's really slipped back into a more transparent form of his old self. He's teasing, but not necessarily mocking. He thinks that if Billy were a little healthier, he'd probably be closer to mocking. And oddly, Steve didn't think he'd mind that, right now. Still, the subject is a sore and sour one, and he sighed.

"I mean," Steve frowned, thinking of an answer. "I dated a few girls... I don't know... it just felt kind of empty, I guess. I don't think anyone really liked me, anyway," any confidence he'd had, had been shattered by Nancy's betrayal of trust. It made him question every past relationship, and it'd likely make him do the same with any future ones. It made him feel unworthy of love, or, more realistically, incapable of  _ being _ loved. Maybe that was the real reason he didn't put effort in anymore, why he seemed so  _ lame. _ He wasn't even  **alone** , really. He had the kids, he had Robin--- he wasn't wholly  _ unhappy _ . But something felt like it was missing, sometimes.

"Damn, she really did fuck you up," Billy mused that aloud, though he didn't sound cruel. He sounded almost---  **empathetic** , which Steve didn't know if he could handle right now. It made his cheeks feel hot, and he clumsily drank some of his ice water before sighing again.

"Isn't this a little heavy for Christmas? It doesn't matter, man. I'm not looking for a  _ girl _ ," he almost felt like he was emphasizing that---  _ a girl _ . Billy gave him a strange look, but didn't push it, just shrugged his shoulders, mimicking Steve's earlier attempt at derailing the conversation.

"Whatever you say, tiger," Billy said that quietly after a few seconds, and whatever moment they  _ maybe _ could've had, was promptly interrupted by Tommy coming over. Steve wasn't sure of whether he was mad or glad about that, but maybe it was good. He felt all  _ weird _ whenever he talked seriously with Billy. And as always, he didn't want to think on it. 

\---

By the time they got back to Steve's house, it was late---  _ really _ late, and for once, Steve didn't feel sore with insomnia, but rather, heavy with exhaustion. It didn't help that the kids stayed for a while yet, playing and partying with the limited time they had. He didn't have the heart to tell them they had to go, even if his parents wanted the place  _ clean _ and  **proper** within the next day. Christmas day was 'for them' _(_ _ they were holding their own party _ _)_, but it didn't matter to Steve if he had to stay up late to deal with that. The hassle was worth it.

And, miracles upon miracles, Billy even helped him clean up. Steve nearly fell asleep while cleaning the kitchen, and by the end of the night, Billy dragged him upstairs and quietly shoved him into his room. Will was already asleep, and Billy whispered a promise, though it almost sounded like a threat; 

"I'll do the rest, Harrington. Go the fuck to sleep."

And--- well, Steve wasn't about to argue, or look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it was a bit of a Merry Christmas after all.

\---

It was then evening, on Christmas Eve. Billy was leaning against Steve as they sat on the living room floor of Mike's house. Steve was practically asleep, entirely exhausted after another long day. From the corner of his eye, Billy saw Joyce looking at them, a sweet smile on her face. Normally that'd encourage Billy to fuck off, but he was comfortable and refused to move. He purposefully leaned a bit to one side, which made Steve slump further towards him. It gave Billy an excuse to snake an arm around his midsection, just to make sure he didn't fall over. No other reason for it.

He doubted that Karen Wheeler had expected his ass to show up. No one knew about their almost-fling and truth be told, Billy didn’t want to think of it. Especially considering how that night had ended.

He kept Steve close, like he was a barrier between them. Karen only tried to pull him aside once, but Billy wasn’t in the mood. He made it clear--- that he wasn’t going to break up her happy little family--- why would he want to? He had bigger fish to fry. Billy kept his attention on Steve, or anyone else, like that would keep him safe from the awkwardness of it all. Karen gave up after a while, only aiming a few puzzled looks to him and Steve when she saw them later on.

Despite all the tension, it was peaceful. Billy feigned tiredness and nodded off, his head resting on top of Steve's. Before long, he wasn't faking the sleepiness; a sense of relaxation swept over him.  _ Damn Steve Harrington and his soft fucking hair. _

\---

Somebody woke them up. It was really late by that point; most of the kids had exchanged their gifts with each other, though Steve had said he'd deliver his sometime tomorrow. Finally gone from the party, Billy drummed his fingers against the steering wheel of his car. It was just him and Max, now, since he'd already taken Lucas to his house, while Steve had offered to bring Dustin home.

"Thanks for today, Billy," Max had cut all of the meanness out of her voice, giving him a chance. His memories snapped to earlier, when they'd found themselves under the lone mistletoe-trap in one of the Wheeler walkways. Billy had smushed a kiss against her cheek, to which she screeched an ' ** _ew!_ ** '. Everyone, including the both of them, had laughed. It had been the kind of interaction he'd never really had with her--- and as much as he didn't like being sappy, it had made his heart feel warm and full, to have such a  _ simple _ interaction with his sister.

He didn't think on it for too long, instead he shrugged before he responded, "yeah. No problem. You had fun?"

Unlike herself, Max seemed a little shy, nodding before looking out of the window. "Y--- yeah. You did too, right?"

"It wasn't too bad," he paused, before opening his glove compartment. Within a few seconds, he'd tossed a package back to Max. It was small and covered in plain brown paper.

"Huh?" She was obviously confused, and fumbled with the box to avoid it landing on the floor.

"Open it."

She did. Inside were two bracelets, charm ones.

"Oh---"

"For you and your friend," he explained that as Max gently took two charms out of the box. One was a skateboard, the other one was a record. One for her, one for Jane.

"Billy..." She didn't know what to say. He'd never gotten her a gift--- not of his own free will. And she sure as Hell hadn't gotten him anything. Whatever her mother had gotten she'd label as being from her and her daughter, because that's what moms did.

"Just take it. I wanted to get it for you." He didn't want to say sorry, but he felt like he should.

"You're not so bad, you know," she looked down at the bracelets and then said something he never thought he'd hear her say;

"I'd... I'd have missed you, Billy."

No one spoke about the near death experience. Not the one at Starcourt, and not any ones since. He tensed and clenched his jaw. He wasn't mad... but he was definitely sad.

"Go on. You're gonna freeze to death." He said that like he planned on getting out of the car. He didn't. He was planted there even after Max left, his gaze staying on his hands as he gripped the steering wheel. He didn't watch her go inside, but he distantly heard the front door shut.

  
She really wasn't a bad kid. Maybe it was the whole nearly dying thing, but he hated himself even more for how he'd treated her. She'd made Neil worse, but that wasn't her fault. It wasn't her job to walk on eggshells.

He was glad he had at least saved her and her best friend from dying back at Starcourt. Sometimes he'd remember a hazy image of her over him, screaming as he bled out. He'd said he was sorry back then, but had not approached the subject since. He'd thought he was gonna die there.

But here he was now.

Shittier than ever.

\---

Christmas day was a blur. Steve and Billy saw each other for approximately forty seconds before they were slapped back into the hellish taxi service they'd submitted to. It was a hectic time, but most of all, Billy was happy to be out of his house for part of the day. He couldn't escape Susan's family dinner, but he could at least occupy himself in the meantime. Max wouldn't stop gushing about the gift he'd gotten her, which surprised him--- considering how she'd gotten a new skateboard, he didn't think his trinket would mean so much.

But, she wore it to dinner, and it made things quiet and contemplative. Susan was all smiles and happy that her family was quiet and at peace, for once. Billy gambled with staying quiet, asides from thanking Susan for dinner and showing appreciation for Max enjoying his gift. He hadn't gotten much other than some clothes, but he wasn't going to complain.

Susan pulled him aside later in the night, shuffled nervously, and handed him a small box. It was wrapped with paper that had cardinals and mistletoe on it.

"It's--- it's for you! I thought you'd like it, Billy," she had purposefully waited for his father to be absent. He was outside shoveling snow, but Billy was due to go out there, too. He was only inside because Susan had asked for his help.

He didn't know what Susan could've gotten him, but he felt his nerves acting up as he carefully unwrapped it. He opened the box beneath the wrapping paper and was shocked.

It was an earring--- just one. A blue metal feather framed by gold accents.

"It... it matches your eyes. I thought you'd like it?" Susan, in the past, had only ever gotten him clothes--- fuck ugly ones, at that. Once she'd gotten him a book on cars. That book had inevitably been thrown at Billy's head, and she didn't buy him shit like that anymore.

"I--- thanks. I like it." He wasn't lying, though he felt a pang of paranoia. His father had already given him shit for wearing jewelry. But maybe since it was from Susan, he'd stop bitching.

"I'll wear it tomorrow. Thanks, Susan," he said his thanks twice and after a bit of debate, he gave her a quick hug. He didn't have much time before his father would get pissed off shoveling snow by himself, so he quickly put his gift in his room and booked it outside.

Steve ' _ always late _ ' Harrington even handed him a cassette tape later that week--- had Kate Bush on it, which kind of felt like a joke. But he'd smiled and was grateful. He'd honestly viewed the pictures they took as a good enough Christmas gift, though he had been holding his own gift in his jacket pocket all week.

He'd gotten Steve a necklace--- nothing too fancy. He looked like a deer caught in headlights when he opened the box that Billy so nicely had thrown at him. Inside was the necklace he'd bought; it had a pendant that looked shockingly like the spiked bat that he always kept around.

Harrington loved it. Billy didn't bother telling him--- or Max--- that he'd spent nearly all his free time altering their gifts. No one had a skateboard charm. No one had a baseball bat with fucking nails. But Billy was crafty enough to be able to buy a few different charms, before he spent time fusing them together with glue and light metal work. He'd blown through quite a bit of his shitty savings, but it felt like it'd been worth it.

All in all, Christmas hadn't been so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hc that el/jane moves a bit away from using 'el' as a nickname. max starts to call her jay cuz it sounds cool. i hope i wrote that okay!


	5. Side A, Cruel To Be Kind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not like u dont see it in the tags but, warning for abuse

It was New Years Eve. The week had flown by, mostly in a haze of Billy driving Max around, specifically to see if any parking lots had been ploughed enough for her to skateboard. After a few days, the mall's parking lot had some pavement that wasn't completely iced over, and she was ecstatic. They even saw Donnie and Tommy there, though Tommy didn't dare to skate--- it was  _ Donnie _ who could do that without falling on his ass. Max did mock Tommy for that--- for the fact that he couldn't skate to save his life. It made Billy a little sad, to see how they interacted, because Tommy had always been kind to Max. But ever since they'd stopped talking, she hadn't had the chance to talk to him. He felt it was weird to arrange play-dates for them, but he casually mentioned that he could drive Max to Donnie's house to hang out with Miguel, Donnie's little brother, and one of her friends. That'd at least ensure she would see Tommy sometimes.

And it went over well, even if she stared at Billy like he'd sprouted another head. He already drove her around a lot as it was, there was no reason to add another house to the list. But she appreciated the gesture.

It wasn't a bad week, by any means. By the time New Years Eve rolled around, he was done with being in his house. He felt like he was about to go insane, though no more than usual. Before his dad could argue with him about something stupid, he was out the door, grateful that Neil hadn't had the chance to rip his keys away from him for some shitty reason.

His parents were going to a party tonight. Max was officially old enough to fuck off by herself, so she'd been dropped off at Mike's a few hours ago. Joyce, Will, And Jane had already gone home, so things had calmed down. As far as Billy knew, he and Steve were the only people without plans. Steve had been acting like an antisocial motherfucker the last few days, probably worn the fuck out by all the kids that'd been in his house for the week before.

So Billy dragged some beer over to his place and marched in without even knocking.

"Uh? Hello?" Steve's confused voice came from upstairs, and he peeked down the steps with narrowed eyes.

"You being a sadass up there? Come down. We'll drink that shit away."

Steve came down the steps, arms crossed as he eyed the beer. He looked at Billy and abruptly said;

"not with that shit."

\---

Evidently, Steve Harrington wasn't the perfect kid he seemed to be--- a far cry from the stuck-up pretty boy that Billy'd thought him to be. He had bourbon holed away, apparently something he'd stolen from his dad over a year ago. He could play innocent well enough, since his dad took his word for it when he said he didn't know where it went.

Once Billy had assured Steve that he was allowed to drink _(_ _ he wasn't _ _)_, they started taking shots. The night went on well enough, the both of them laughing and listening to music or flipping between channels. Sometimes, they listened to music  _ and _ watched TV, like that wasn't a headache.

It was still 1985. They were taking the last shot of the year. They were going to regret it later. They'd drank so much already and they'd been reduced to laughing fits and stupidity over the last few hours. The ugly grandfather clock in Harrington's living room chimed as the ball dropped on TV.

It was 1986 and Billy had his hands on Steve's face as he crushed him into a kiss. Steve didn't seem to mind at all. It was hard to hear anything over the TV, but Steve sighed dreamily as Billy's fingers ran through his hair.

It wasn't just one kiss. It was a few, until Billy broke the rhythm, grinned wider than he ever had before, and went running outside to yell out to the world, wishing a ' _ happy fucking new year _ _'_ to nobody in particular, yet everybody at once. Steve had heard fireworks going off somewhere, distantly, and he could barely stand on his own two feet as he ran barefoot outside to try and drag Billy back in. They fell a few times on the way back in, but they were laughing too much to care.

Falling into each other's arms had felt so natural, the moments blurred as curious hands roamed over each other's bodies, heated kisses pressed  _ here  _ and  **there** . The actions were drowsy, fueled by a bone-deep sense of relief and freedom that came from drinking, with forgetting every taboo that otherwise haunted them. It was a whole other form of intoxication; Steve got distracted by every little thing about Billy, feather-light fingers brushing along his cheeks, jaw, and finally his ear.

"Looks good on you," Steve murmured as he leaned in, pressing a dazed kiss to Billy's cheek. He referred to the earring Susan had gotten him for Christmas, and the compliment made his heart flutter for some reason. He was completely lost in all the affection--- in how this all felt so  _ right _ .

It was 1986 and they were drunk as motherfuckers.

\---

They didn't talk about what happened. But to be fair, it took a few hours after Steve peeled himself off the floor, for him to even  ** _remember_ ** . It was in-between barfing spells that he recalled it, and suddenly his face was on fire as his stomach.

Billy didn't mention it at all. He looked at Steve like nothing happened. Cracked jokes at his expense. Even more unfair to Steve was that Billy didn't seem hungover at all. In fact, it was Billy who was tying Steve's hair back and getting him water. Best case scenario he just didn't remember anything from last night.

Worst case scenario, he wished it hadn't happened and was grossed out.

God, Steve's stomach churned, and he was throwing up again, groaning as he rested his head against his arm.

"You look like shit, Harrington," Billy had teased at one point, and after an hour in front of the toilet, Steve felt his first sense of gratefulness for staring into it. At least he didn't have to look at Billy and show him how hurt he looked. How confused he felt. A thousand thoughts racing through his head and he could barely stop himself from passing out.

Steve felt like the universe had made him the punchline to some kind of shitty joke.

\---

1986 didn't start out too badly, once Steve got over that first day. After he buried their time spent together on New Years, everything went back to normal. He convinced himself that it was just something that'd happened because they were drunk, even if his opinion and worries on that could change day to day.

Billy came over every few days, or at least on the weekend. He never asked if Steve was free; Steve always was, and he always showed up. Sometimes, he'd drop by the video store with Max, and Max would end up having to drag him out of the store to take her back home. It felt a lot less casual than before.

And they went for drives, sometimes. Took turns with whose car they took. It was relaxing. Fun, too. Other nights, they just lounged in Steve's living room. He'd found that if he waited long enough into the night, he could find Billy's hand with his. They didn't exactly hold hands, but their fingers touched, and they'd lean into each other.

\---

One day, Lucas called and asked Steve if he could pick his sister up. Her friend's mom was sick, and Lucas was stranded at home. His parents weren't around and he didn't know who else to call.

So that was how Billy, who'd been lingering next to the phone when Lucas called, and Steve, were crammed into the BMW with Erica in the backseat.

She looked displeased. Steve hadn't seen much of her since Summer, but oh boy was she there right now.

"Aren't you the guy who beat him up?" Pulling no punches, that question made Steve give a shocked look to the rearview mirror.

"Yu ** _p_ ** ," Billy popped the 'p', sunglasses down, his voice sarcastically cheerful. Erica had been picked up after she'd visited the candy shop in the mall, and Billy had stolen the lollipop she'd offered to Steve. He had it in his mouth and it was one of the most bizarrely lewd displays that Steve had ever seen. He didn't know if Billy noticed him staring whenever they were at a stoplight, but he hoped he didn't.

"Damn, Steve. You really don't have any friends, huh?" Erica said that and he groaned. He heard Billy laugh around the lollipop, and it did nothing to help how he was feeling.

_ Why did he drive these kids around all the time? _

\---

By February, Billy's hair had grown back out and it was almost longer than when it had been in the Summer.

Maybe Steve was a little tipsy when he started to play with Billy's hair, but he was lucky that Billy was drunker.

"What're you up to, Harrington?" He cocked an eyebrow up at Steve and knocked his head back to stare up at him. For some reason, Billy had sat on the floor, right in front where Steve was sat on the couch, between his legs, at that.

"Uh--- I dunno," he admitted, though his fingers still brushed through Billy's soft hair. Billy was at a level of drunk where he could appreciate the action, so he didn't complain.

"You ever braided it before?" Steve asked that, breaking the content silence.

"... do I look like a girl to you, Harrington?"

Steve's cheeks burned red.

"N--- no." He looked pretty, but he wouldn't call him a girl. Steve didn't really think that braids had to be inherently girly, either. Hell, the kids had braided his hair on a few occasions and he didn't think he'd looked  _ that  _ bad. Then again, his resolve was paper-thin these days. Kind of got to be like that, after you dealt with all the shit he'd gone through. What was a little emasculation compared to the world ending.

"Just thought it'd look cool," he mumbled, taking what he thought was a hint, stopping how he played with Billy's hair.

"... if it looks like shit, I'm gonna be mad."

It took a few seconds for Steve to realize that that was Billy for ' _ you can braid my hair _ '.

"You ever been known to look like shit, Hargrove?"

"Hmm. No, but I don't want to start because of you, pretty boy."

Steve couldn't hide the dumbass smile on his face, though he felt more at ease when Billy had his eyes back on the TV.

Billy Hargrove looked pretty damn good with a braid, and Steve wasn’t even that great at them. If he’d had a camera, he would’ve taken a picture, but he’d just have to catalog away the image in his head--- remember it fondly. Billy seemed impressed, too, but there was a strangely sad look in his eyes when he saw his reflection. Steve didn't dare ask why he looked that way, instead, he just touched Billy's arm, lowering the mirror and changing the subject.

\---

Billy had done it one too many times, he guessed. Hard for everybody to not notice him going over to Steve Harrington's practically every day. Even when he didn't have his car, he found a way over--- or sometimes, Steve picked him up, didn't even ask if he needed a ride, just showed up like he belonged in the Hargrove driveway at five pm on a Thursday.

Right now, it was Saturday night and Neil had grabbed him by his arm; foolish as it was, Billy had gotten used to not getting into fights with him. It was hard to get into fights if he was never there, or if he was always doing something for Max.

But Neil found a way.

"Where are you going?"

"Out." Vague. Like he had been more often than not, these days. Neil looked pissed, even though Billy knew he hadn't done shit. He'd helped Susan make dinner, for Christ's sake, what could he have done wrong since then?

"You're going over to that faggot's house again, aren't you?" Neil's words were venomous, but slurred by alcohol. Billy felt his temper rise to a boiling point before Neil had even finished talking.

"Don't fucking call him that."

"Mind your fucking tongue, boy. You should be---"

"What? Going out on a date with a  _ whore _ ? Babysitting little Maxie?" He nearly snarled, though he knew full well of the fire he was playing with.

"Neil--- Neil, let's watch the movie, honey," Susan spoke up, ballsier than usual, but before her hand could find Neil's arm, he'd swatted her away. Smacked a hand against hers, which made her flinch. That was the last straw and Billy's fingers clenched into a fist.

Billy was getting pretty fucking mad. Neil didn't  _ usually  _ lash out at Susan--- maybe he'd learned some kind of lesson when it came to treating your wife like shit. But regardless of that, he still treated his own son like garbage.  _ You're a man, you can take it _ , Neil had said to him, once.

"Susan do something wrong, too?" His tone was mocking, and he wasn't shocked when Neil slapped him across the face. A growl ripped itself from Billy's throat, his gaze caught on Max, who was frozen in the hallway, eyes wide as she stared at the two of them. He could feel his cheek stinging, and he knew well enough that his face was already red from the impact.

"Mind your fucking mouth."

"Oh, I know you're fuckin'  _ obsessed  _ with what my mouth does," he remembered when Neil had heard rumors, back in California. That his son sucked dick. A man's worst nightmare, that was.

Neil was obviously gearing up to throw a fucking fit. Billy wasn't in the mood. Neil tried to grab at him as he left, but Billy had Neil's drunkenness on his side--- he pushed the man away and slammed the front door shut.

He could hear yelling coming from inside, but it didn't stop him from getting into the car. Not even Max, running outside in the snow in her socks, could get him to stop. She was yelling for him, worry-wild eyes staring at him as he backed out of their driveway, knocking their trashcan over and nearly destroying their mailbox.

He couldn't really give less of a shit, right now.

\---

Billy didn't talk to Steve at all, not for over a week. He'd ignored his calls. He dropped Max off at school and picked her up, but even when she asked, he didn't take her to the video store. Steve had been told that by Max--- he'd been desperate enough to call early on the weekend, and she'd answered. She sounded sad, but didn't say anything else.

He didn't know what he'd done wrong. Everything had been normal--- felt normal--- but all of the sudden, Billy wouldn't talk to him. He'd seen the Camaro go by the video store once, gotten his hopes up, only for him to continue past.

Every time he went over to the Hargrove's house, Billy was gone.

It distracted him, made him forget about anything else that was going on. Namely, Valentine's day, which was right around the corner. But of all fucking things, someone asked him out. A girl came in, eyeing him like he was a damn prize. No one had given half a shit about him in the last few months, and since the Starcourt Shitshow, he'd given up on flirting. He wasn't really interested, anyway. He'd changed a lot in the last few years; rewind, and he would've jumped at this opportunity.

But now here he was, with a busty brunette, one of her green eyes winking at him. Asking him about what plans he had for the weekend. Her hair was even bigger than her attitude; she was very out-going, easily overshadowing anyone else he spoke to. She'd come in a few times before and listened to him fumble over recommendations. It was a damn miracle he still had this job, considering how awful he was at it.

She was nice. Her name was Rosie, ' _ like, short for Roseanne, but I hate that, y'know? _ '. She was apparently friends with Robin's  _ sort-of _ girlfriend, because she mentioned her now and then, and had even come in with her once. Presently, Rosie was casually asking about his weekend again without relenting, even when he got awkward. They both knew what Friday was---

Valentine's Day.

"Uh..." Steve trailed off, looking at a poster that had been put up poorly. He should fix that.  _ God, he just wanted a reason to get out of this conversation. _ Before he could think much on it, he felt someone grab him by the back of his shirt and he yelped as he was dragged backwards.

"Can you hold on for a second? I just need Steve's help," Robin's voice, sugary sweet and fake as could be, rang in his ears. She didn't need his help for shit. If anything, he was the one asking her for help, half of the time.

"Steve? What the Hell? Go on the date. She's cute. Don't you have eyes?" Robin had crowded him against a shelf, out of sight of Rosie, who popped a loud bubble before chewing on her gum again. She was going through a magazine, utterly unaware or uncaring about what was happening.

"I, uh---" 

" _ Uh _ ? Is that all you can say?! Jesus, Steve. You've wanted a date for months. Go get your fucking date, dingus," Robin grabbed him by his shoulders, shook him for a second, and shoved him back in the direction of the counter.

He thought, for a second, about how this was all so stupid. He  _ had  _ wanted a date for the last few months, but when it came down to it, he just didn't have his heart in it. He found his mind wandering to Billy, and he swallowed as he remembered the time they'd spent together recently. Billy in the car, lollipop in his mouth, Steve staring at him like an idiot. All the other times he’d gazed at Billy like a dumbass, and all the times he’d tried to hold his hand or inch closer.

No wonder he didn't come around anymore. Steve had made everything awkward.

Earlier, Robin had told him more about her girlfriend--- though they'd been dating for a while, Steve didn't know a whole lot about her. Probably because he was busy mooning over Billy. But he knew she was kind, a sweet girl, and Robin was pretty much head over heels for her. Robin had likely seen his sigh and forlorn expression after that conversation as  _ jealousy _ \--- and that he presently wanted a girlfriend. But whether she was right or wrong over that, he refused to wallow in his own misery, so he'd, however reluctantly, follow her lead.

"Thanks, Steve, you're a lifesaver!" Robin put on a cheery look, but aimed a cold glare at him for a split second. It broke him out of his thoughts. He hadn't bitched and moaned about a lack of dates in weeks--- maybe even months--- but she would never forget when it was all he'd done. She'd seen every failure he'd committed in trying to flirt with girls, and she'd never forget that shit.

"Oh, yeah. I'm free, by the way," he said that hesitantly and watched as Rosie leaned over the counter, into his space. A little too close for his own personal comfort. What the Hell had happened to the Steve Harrington from a few years ago? He was hardly even a shadow of himself, not an ounce of his old  _ charm _ . This girl couldn't have gone to school with him, or she'd be acting  ** _way _ ** different. She'd probably be mocking him instead of flirting.

"Wicked. Meet you at the movies on Friday? Seven pm." She was assertive, which was good for him--- chances were, he'd never make plans otherwise.

"Yeah. Your pick," Steve struggled to put a smile on his face as Rosie giggled. Maybe she enjoyed how awkward he was.

"Sweet. See you then, Steve!"

She didn't even rent a movie. She almost never did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what if we kissed, bro? what if we kissed but then pretended we didn't? haha.... unless......
> 
> side note rosie is a good girl and i am NOT a fan of the Demonizing a Girl For A Gay Ship trope, so don't worry, that won't happen here


	6. Side A, Ocean Eyes

He'd chickened out, basically. Didn't kiss Rosie. They went to the movie and she tried a few times, but they ended up just holding hands. He was planning on asking her out for dinner after the movie, but he felt so awkward by the end of it that he couldn't even get up the courage to do it.

She, somehow, didn't care, and she scheduled  _ another _ date for next week. Kissed him on the cheek and smiled like it'd been the best date of her life, no matter how lame he'd thought it had been. Steve had gotten her a single flower--- it wasn't a rose or anything, just a random flower he didn't know the name of. She'd given him a pack of gum. It was far from romantic, but it was their first date--- what was he supposed to do?

Valentine's day may have been, in his humble opinion, a fucking  _ disaster _ , but it was more the-day-after Valentine's day when the chaos really hit. What else was new. Chaos couldn't keep its distance from Steve Harrington.

Billy had shown up looking like a hot mess, crashed into his house after barely getting the front door open. Thank god he hadn't tried to climb the side of the house in a fit of mania or something. Steve shoved him into his room and pretended like it was normal, like he hadn't grabbed his bat when he heard thumping and pounding downstairs. He was just grateful that he hadn't started swinging before he'd turned the lights on.

"What the Hell are you doing here?" He figured of all people, Billy would have some kind of plans for tonight. He looked like he'd already been out, unless he'd shotgunned a hundred beers in his driveway.

Steve wanted to ask him about what had been going on--- about why he had refused to come over until  _ now _ . But he swayed towards Steve, a clumsy grin on his lips as he leaned closer, nearly making Steve fall onto his bed as he leaned away.

"Oh, baby, don't be that way. Only wanna be here wi'  _ you _ , Harrington," he was drunk off his ass, which made Steve freak out a bit. Billy's voice didn't sound like it usually did--- it wasn't quiet or loud, it was  _ dreamy _ .  ** _Soft_ ** , something almost loving to it. Steve narrowly dodged an attempt at--- something. Fuck, he didn't know what. His head was spinning.

He couldn't do a repeat of New Years. He was sober, and he was also stupidly aware of how much he'd enjoy that kind of shit. He was busy trying to glue himself together, reminding himself of the fact that he had a date next week. He didn't need to be thinking about Billy Hargrove anymore.

He wasn't going to take advantage of the situation, so he redirected Billy to his records and it distracted him for a few minutes. He had to take a record from Billy and put it on himself, to avoid Billy ruining it, but within a few seconds, he was passed out on Steve's bed.

\---

Billy had a damn hangover that lasted for two days.

And now he was sat on the couch, with Billy Hargrove of all people, watching Anne of Green Gables.

For what it was worth, the show kept his attention and made him quiet, seeming to calm him down. Billy even accepted the cups of water Steve brought to him religiously. Eventually Steve just got a pitcher and landed it on the coffee table, sighing as he saw Billy shiver and curl up in the blanket he'd given him.

Again, nothing was mentioned. Nothing about how Billy had acted. It was routine. Steve knew better than to approach Billy about subjects he didn't want to talk about. He also knew that he wouldn't listen when Steve told him not to drink so much. 

Later that week, Steve was at a hardware store. Picked up a new doorknob, one with a lock. More and more often, it felt like Billy was lingering in his room--- and his parents, who had a not-very-good opinion of him, wouldn't be thrilled. So he installed it, acted like it was no big deal, and breathed a sigh of relief when Billy came barreling into his room at eleven pm.

"Lock it, Hargrove," was all he said, fiddling with his radio.

"Oh, kinky," was all Billy said, a click heard as the lock slid into place. Billy was on the floor within a few seconds, though his legs were kicked up against the side of Steve's bed. He was staring up at Steve, who peered down at him curiously.

"What?" Steve asked that as he tried to dislodge a battery from the radio.

"Nothin'. Your hair looks stupider from down here."

"Whatever." Steve sighed and rolled his eyes. Typical Billy.

"You wanna go out?"

"Wh--- what?" Steve had nearly dropped his radio, eyes going wide.

"To a bar or somethin'. This is fucking boring. It's Friday." Usually Billy would already show up hammered by this time, if he wanted to be drunk at all. Seemed a little late to go out. Also, he wasn't even sure if he had a fake ID anymore. Life had gotten terribly mundane.

"You crazy? Is a bar even open this late in Hawkins?" Let alone a liquor store. He seemed to make a good point and Billy sucked on his lower lip. It was distracting, Steve was mortified to realize.

"For a drive, then?" Billy offered, like he hadn't given Steve a heart attack a minute before.

"So you can talk about your precious  _ baby _ _?_ Jesus, Hargrove," he rolled his eyes again and flopped back onto his bed. Billy sat up, soon kneeling, his elbows resting on the edge of the bed.

"We'll take your car, then," he countered, as if just to surprise Steve. Billy rarely willingly drove in the BMW--- not more than a few times.

"You shitting me? Well, whatever. Good enough," Steve was bored, so why not go for a drive? The stars were out, the moon was nearly full--- or maybe it had been full. Steve didn't know shit about the moon. Steve's thoughts were preoccupied, enough so that when he turned and saw Billy standing up, he was a bit startled.

It was then that he noticed something--- like a shadow, but it definitely wasn't--- over the left side of Billy's face. From his forehead down to his cheek, in splotches.

Steve's look of worry put Billy preemptively on edge.

"Are you okay---"

"Yeah," it was a defensive response.

"But---"

"Ain't got all night, Harrington," Billy said, turning and getting out of the room before Steve could ask anymore questions.

\---

Billy's car was nowhere to be seen, which confused Steve. He hadn't heard anyone drop Billy off, so that meant he must've walked some distance to get there. Whatever the mystery was, he wasn't going to learn about it anytime soon; Billy was not keen on talking.

A half hour later and they were near the woods, at the edge of a park.They were laying on the trunk of his car, staring up at the stars. Steve wondered if Billy used the excuse of it being cold to allow them to be so close to each other. He didn't question it, because he really didn't feel like ruining the moment.

They were almost holding hands. Steve couldn't stop thinking about how close they were, especially after how little they'd seen each other. But soon, all Steve could think about was Billy's face. A particular part of his face, not his lips or his eyes, for once.

"Hey, Billy?" He tried to approach the subject with caution, stole a glance at Billy and saw that his eyes were closed, his cigarette between his teeth. A few seconds after Steve spoke, Billy took it from his mouth and blew smoke out.

"What?"

"... what happened?" 

"Really, Harrington?" He sounded disgruntled, like he was insulted that Steve even  _ cared _ .

"Yes, really. What happened?" Steve struggled against every instinct he had, which told him to leave Billy Hargrove alone and to just give up the act of giving a shit.  _ Only problem was, it wasn't an act. _

"What do you think?" Billy rolled his gaze back to Steve, a scowl in place.

"You got hit?" Was his best guess, but there was more to it. There always was, with Billy.

"Yeah? Good guess. You win, here's your prize," Billy sarcastically rolled over, a hand near Steve's shoulder as he blew a load of smoke right down onto Steve's face. Somehow, it was endearing, which Steve hated. He blinked the tears away from his eyes--- he wasn't used to smoke being in his face--- and he gave Billy a look he obviously didn't anticipate. He was pouting.

Steve Harrington. Pouting at him.

"Really?" He narrowed his eyes at the expression, and Steve responded by frowning more deeply and looking away.

"I'm just--- I'm worried, Billy."

Billy grit his teeth. Steve had finally done it, he'd crossed the invisible line. He felt that realization go from his head to his stomach, sinking like the damn Titanic. He sat up and turned away, hiding his expression as fast as possible. He'd fucked up. But it was inevitable. What could he expect? This was Billy Hargrove. He'd set himself up for disappointment. There wasn't anything he could do, either. Billy was already tensed up, not looking for his sympathy or kindness, but rather, an escape.

" _ Take me home, Harrington _ ." Billy was already off the car, so Steve planted his feet on the ground, went around to his side of the car, and got in wordlessly. He turned the car on and didn't say anything, didn't even look at Billy. In turn, Billy didn't crack the window as he continued to smoke. Steve didn't even bother complaining about the smoke that filled the car.

\---

It hurt to pretend that he didn't miss Steve. That he didn't want to be near him. But he couldn't let him know. It was only when he hit his lows that he had to go see him, drunk or sober, no matter the cost. But now there had been silence for over a week. Billy had casually asked about him when Max was getting ready for school, and all she did was shrug. Neil had taken his keys again, so he couldn't even drive Max to school anymore.

"Haven't heard from him... I think Dustin said he was sick." Billy chewed on his lip and got a cigarette out. Even if they'd barely been near each other the last few weeks, Billy still knew his schedule. His parents were probably away, so who was taking care of him? Harrington didn't strike him as being self-sufficient if he happened to be sick.

He decided to call in a favor with Tommy, who was unhappy to say the least--- Tommy had a work ethic far beyond any other guy their age, and however lame his job was, he took it very seriously. He had to sacrifice his lunch break to drive Billy to Steve's house, and Billy refused to answer any questions he had. Perhaps some semblance of normality remained between them, because neither of them were willing to be too  _ touchy-feely _ , and Billy aimed a fiver at his face as he flipped him off. Then he went into the house, leaving Tommy with more than a few questions--- and precisely  _ no _ answers. At least he didn't have to worry about breaking in; Neil had yet to rip the Harrington house keys away from him. He kept them better hidden.

He entered and scrunched his nose up. He saw one of Steve's sneakers at the bottom of the stairs, another on the welcome mat; socks and a few other pieces of clothing were on the floor as well. The kitchen was a damn mess. He could hear the TV on in the living room.

He ventured there and saw a bedraggled Steve Harrington. Hair flat, nose red, bundled up under a blanket. Billy couldn't see any medicine anywhere, just tissues on the floor and a pillow Steve had brought down from his room. He pressed a hand to Steve's forehead and heard a groan, Steve squinting his eyes open.

"Billy?" He sounded tired and stuffy and he had a fever that was hot as Hell.

"Yo, Harrington. Can I borrow your car?" Steve looked confused, but reached under the blanket and dragged his keys out. Why the fuck he still had them in his pocket when he was feeling like shit, Billy didn't know.

"Sure... whatever." Steve weakly tossed the keys at him and curled back up on the couch. Sick as a damn dog. Figures that Spring would almost roll around and he'd finally get sick.

It felt weird to drive in Steve's car, especially without him, but Billy didn't want to call in any other favors. If he even still had any viable ones. Neil was still pissed at him, and he rarely got his car keys. Even rarer was being able to keep them hidden, so he'd have to deal with the BMW for now. For as much shit as he spewed, he didn't hate the car. He actually kind of liked it. And he liked Steve, enough so that he would actually be careful while driving.

He was in the parking lot of the pharmacy when he decided to check his hair--- and discreetly apply some cherry chapstick. When he pushed the sun visor down to try and get to the mirror, something fell on his lap. He was confused, since he'd never seen Steve put anything up there before. When he picked the piece of paper up, he realized it was actually photos. The ones they'd taken in December.

Billy's chest tightened and he felt breathless. He did his best to blame it on the cold and powered past it. He tried to pretend like it didn't make his head spin. He got out of the car, pocketing the pictures and going inside.

He got some cough syrup, more tissues, and eyed a bottle of painkillers before he ended up grabbing it. He didn't know where shit was when it came to medicine in the Harrington house ( _ oddly, he had found none when he checked the bathroom cabinets _ ), so he'd rather be safe than sorry.

He was out of the pharmacy as quick as he'd gone in. Then it felt like a few seconds passed and he was back at Harrington's. He got on the phone as he kicked his shoes off. He was glad that it was Max who answered.

"Billy? He's pissed. You should be at home by now."

"Just tell him I have a date. I'll be home late." There was a pointed silence; Billy hadn't been on a date since he got back, but truthfully, Neil would shit on him whether he had a date every night or never again in his life.

"Okay..." Max sounded worried and Billy heard the jingle of her charm bracelet.

"It's fine, Max. Just do me a solid." She didn't question it, just agreed and got off the phone.

"Okay, Harrington. Stop being a pussy and take your meds."

\---

Sometime later, Steve was feverish, and Billy was worried, having been up and down all day, completely forgetting about the pictures that were now peaking out of his pocket.

"Hey--- whas' that?" Steve was half drunk on meds and sleepiness. He reached out and grabbed at the pictures, his fingers brushing against Billy's leg and igniting a feeling of panic. It didn't stop Steve from getting his hands on the pictures, though.

His eyebrows were furrowed as he stared at them.

"Found 'em in your visor," he said nothing else. Steve didn't say anything back, just put them on the coffee table and closed his eyes again. It was a long night, and Billy gambled by staying the whole time. He didn't leave until morning, when he fed Steve some breakfast and checked his temperature. When he finally felt good enough about leaving him to fend for himself, he took off.

Once he was well again, Steve didn't seem to remember much of what happened, but he paid Billy back for the medicine and thanked him. He never mentioned the pictures, which was probably a good decision for the both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all i can think about is billy's titties


	7. Side A, Dont Know How

He didn't hear about Steve's date--- or that he was  _ dating _ . Not until he saw them at the video store. Robin bragged about it straight to his face and Billy felt the world fall out from under him. Her name was Rosie, and Rosie was fucking gorgeous. She and Steve had gone on a few dates, apparently having been together since Valentine's day. It made Billy  _ almost _ mad. Made him think about the talk he'd had with Steve at Christmas. About how he didn't think he'd find a girl anytime soon.

But could he be surprised? Rosie was what he assumed an eyecatcher to be. That didn't matter to him, though. He couldn't stop looking at Steve, at how he smiled shyly as he spoke to her. He knew he couldn't expect Steve to give a shit about him, to tell him shit. Not when he acted like he had. But it still stung.

"Nice job, Harrington," he said ( _ pushing down every bitter thing he wanted to say, every memory he had _ ). He realized soon enough that he couldn't be there, not anymore. He had to go pick up some shitty movie and get the fuck out of there before his ego got any more bruised.

Rosie was leaning over the counter, fingers running up Steve's arm. Talking about going out this weekend, about him taking her clothes shopping. He couldn't look at Steve for more than a few seconds, not after he saw the blush on his cheeks. He couldn't even look at the VHS tapes, his eyes stuck on Rosie for a few seconds too long before he snatched the nearest tape that looked tolerable.

Robin rang him up. She'd never done that before--- it'd always been Steve to check him out. But Steve was still talking to Rosie, like she was all that existed, brown does eyes glued to her, that shy smile on his lips.

"Thanks," he said, roughly, turning around without looking at or acknowledging Steve again. He just wanted to be out of there.

\---

"Hey, can you pick me up? Uh... my car's not turning on," Steve was apparently stranded at a gas station that he'd walked to. Billy was far from in the mood for a car ride with Steve Harrington, but he wasn't a complete jackass. He wouldn't abandon Steve, not when he'd done him so many favors. Even helping him while sick couldn't erase all the other debts Billy felt he had towards him. And between his lack of a desire to visit the Harrington house and Neil going out of town, his keys had been returned, anyway. He didn't have an excuse to  _ not  _ pick Steve up.

  
The Cars was playing, ear-piercingly loud. Steve gave Billy a look that made it seem like he wondered if he'd lost his mind _ ; whatever _ song was blasting so loudly that Steve couldn't think, about the song or anything else. Billy couldn't keep from looking livid, and Steve obviously wasn't excited to get into the car, but he slid in anyway. Billy still didn't look at him.

"Hey, uh," Steve's voice was like acid, eating away at his patience.

"I can... I can find another ride?" He still had the car door open when he spoke, and Billy, all impatience and fury, impulsively started to back up, which made Steve yelp as he rushed to close the door and buckle himself in. The car ride was silent and once Steve was home, Billy backed out of the driveway before Steve could even look back at his car.

\---

Billy hadn't been to the video store in over a week. In fact, Steve hadn't seen him at all for that long. He'd tried to call Billy, but when Max answered the phone, he didn't know what to say. Billy hadn't said more than three words to him since the last time they'd hung out--- and seeing each other idly at the video store barely counted. It wasn't like he had any messages to leave. No,  _ Hey, Billy, wanna grab some drinks? _ or  _ Billy, you tried this new polish for the Camaro? _

Life felt exhaustingly empty, and that came from a guy who now went on dates twice a week at minimum. And yet, he only felt worse and worse, like none of it mattered. He felt awful, most of the time.

Because--- Rosie was a great girl. Hell, he  _ adored  _ her as a friend. She was funny, sweet, and most of all, nice to him even when he fucked up. He could trip and fall flat on his face and she'd just laugh it off like it didn't matter. Steve didn't embarrass her at all, and that was a nice change to how he normally felt.

But he didn't want to kiss her. Didn't feel like touching her, or getting any closer. Hugging was okay; hugging Rosie was a bit like hugging Joyce or Robin; comforting and warm. Nice, really, it just wasn't anything other than that. It didn't have any  _ spark _ . There was no pull.

He held out hope, though. He looked at Rosie and she made him happy, and that was enough--- it had to be. He wasn't going to give up on her, because she wasn't giving up on him. He even had her hang out with the kids--- and she loved them. She found Dustin to be hilarious, and even gave Lucas advice when he'd pissed off Max yet again.

They had their first kiss at the end of February. They were just leaving the video store, and it had been on pure impulse. Rosie had tried a few other times since their Valentine's date, though she'd failed. This time, Steve didn't aim for her cheek. If Rosie noticed how awkward it'd been, she said nothing, only kissed him again before dragging him off to go shopping with her.

He tried his best not to think of Billy Hargrove. And he especially tried not to think of him at night, when he was haunted by the sudden hostility that his friend seemed to harbor towards him.

\---   
Casual bickering filled his senses as he watched Tommy wander around, with none other than Donnie Swan on his heels, and a few other people lingering. Most people he knew had stopped talking to each other after high school, either moving on to college or work--- but it felt like that whole group was still attached at the hip. It was kind of funny, to see Tommy's shorter stature among a bunch of supersized jocks. They all looked fairly happy, though.

It was, however, a bit of a shock to see Billy with them all, and he seemed so out of place, hardly like himself. After so long of not seeing him come in, or anywhere around Hawkins, it was jarring for him to just---  _ appear _ . What was stranger, was that someone mentioned something about it being his  _ birthday _ , and a sour feeling settled in his gut. He realized he'd, obviously, never learned Billy's birthday. He'd probably asked, before, but Billy wasn't too forthcoming with that kind of information. He figured either Billy hated celebrating it, or he didn't trust Steve enough for him to know. He was leaning towards the latter assumption, now.

When they came to the front, Steve purposefully took a few dollars off of the renting prices. It wasn't like Billy was paying; the one dishing out the cash was one of the redheads he'd seen before. But it felt like the least he could do, and he thought he caught Billy make a face when he heard the total. Steve's heart skipped a beat, and he wondered if all the time spent in the video store had made it that he  _ really _ noticed that difference. No one else seemed to, and as fast as they'd come in, the group left, a bunch of tapes and snacks in hand.

He knew it was a little pathetic, to still hang on to the bits of their  _ friendship _ that they'd had. But he couldn't help himself, and deep down, he really just wanted to be able to  _ talk _ to him again. He hoped Billy felt the same; that this was just a part of a cycle, the same song and dance they'd always had.

\---

"Isn't Billy Hargrove your friend?" Rosie asked him that when she got into his car, her hair bunched into two bundles on each side of her head. It had been almost two weeks since he'd even  _ mentioned  _ Billy, but yet he still thought of him every day.

"Uh, yeah, I guess," Steve replied with his eyes on his rear view window as he backed up. He didn't know how to describe Billy, or what he was to him--- but a  _ friend  _ was as close as he could get.

"They said he pulled some shit last night. He was screaming on main street. Nearly broke a window and then puked everywhere. Was dragged off by his dad, or something."

Steve froze, nearly slamming on the brakes a little too hard.

"What? Is he okay?"

"I mean, I don't know. I don't know the guy," she shrugged. "I heard about it earlier. Had to get some shit at the pharmacy and the place was a mess. He wasn't arrested, though. I guess he was fucked up on his meds or something."

Steve felt the panic rising. He usually only felt it at night, when he couldn't sleep--- it had faded when Billy had been with him, but the panic came crashing back whenever he was alone for too long. Here he was, half pulled out of a parking space, freaking out at four pm.

"Steve? Steve? You okay?" Rosie was shaking his arm, trying to get his attention.

"No," he said it immediately, before he could lie. "I--- I gotta drop you off at home, Rose."

"Didn't know Billy was that good of a friend, Steve. Sorry, I would've called you or something." She looked sympathetic and he appreciated it. He felt bad for ditching her--- it was a nice day. They were gonna hang out through most of it. She'd had some books she wanted to show him.

"I can get a ride, though. I'll talk to Robin or something. You go on over to Billy's." She was already out of the car before he could argue and she waved at him, flashing him a smile before going inside the video store. She looked happy, for her plans having been ruined. He could just barely spot the worried look that Robin aimed at him, before he sped out of the parking lot and tried to avoid getting caught going over the speed limit on his way down to the Hargrove house.

\---

Billy wasn't at his house, but the Camaro was parked there, covered in snow and ice. When Steve went to the door, Susan answered it, looking worse for wear. Steve impatiently bounced from foot to foot, spotting Neil who glared at him from behind his wife. He held back the urge to openly glare back at him.

"He's... he's not here. He went for a walk," Susan flinched when she heard Neil take a particularly loud step behind her. Steve was pretty damn sure that Max wasn't an option--- even if she could tell him what he wanted to know, no one had had contact with her in the last day. She was probably grounded, and as much as he wanted to know where Billy was, he wasn't about to have a full-on fight with Neil Hargrove.

Steve knew it was useless to ask Susan where Billy was, and he was ready to say his goodbyes, but she spoke up just before he could;

"He's... um, he's probably not far," she looked pained, but a desperate look was in her eyes as her fingers tensed around the doorframe. She then calmly explained that she had to go make dinner and said goodbye to Steve, though her eyes stayed on him until she shut the door.

Once she'd shut the door, Steve jogged back to his car--- he had no fucking clue where Billy could've gone, especially given his affinity for wandering miles upon miles with no damn car. But he had one place in mind--- one place that was close enough, a possibility if nothing else.

With a deep sigh, Steve got into his car and prayed that Billy Hargrove wasn't going to be a pain in the ass today.

\---

The sun was already going down, making the temperature drop. It made Steve more paranoid as he drummed his fingers against his steering wheel. The park was only a few minutes away, but traffic made it a longer drive. He couldn't think of any other place that Billy would go to, and with all luck, if he wasn't there, Steve would catch him walking along the road.

If he was wrong, he couldn't even ask the kids for help. They all had tests, which meant that their parents had confiscated their radios. Robin had a gig, and Rosie didn't deserve to be dragged into this, so he was on his own. It was already late where Joyce was, and to be honest, he didn't want to bring Jane into this again. It was a miracle her powers still worked at all. Steve didn't need to wear her out.

It was by pure luck that he was correct in his guess, and as he pulled into the parking lot, he saw none other than Billy Hargrove sitting on a bench, smoking casually. As if no one was worried about him. Steve barely remembered to turn his car off before he took a run over to where Billy was. Nearly wiped out on a patch of ice, but caught himself.

Billy didn't even seem to notice him, not until he was a few feet away. Even though the lights in the park were minimal and the remaining sun basked everything in an orange glow, Steve could still make out Billy's features almost perfectly--- how his face was swollen with bruises and how his lip was split.

"Back off," Billy warned, before Steve could get any closer. 

"No." Steve knew he had the upper hand, and Billy did, too. Billy looked vaguely upset about that, gritting his teeth to mask what almost looked to be  _ fear _ . Steve made himself at home on the bench next to Billy, despite how he lurched away in response.

"I'm not leaving, Billy."

  
To Billy Hargrove, that seemed like a damn threat. For a second or two, Steve saw the same fury in Billy's eyes that had been there when they met at the Byers house. He wouldn't have been surprised if Billy threw a punch at him, but he didn't. He looked away and stared at the ground, taking a drag from his cigarette. The same question that had been swimming around in Steve's head for months came back to the surface again, and this time he asked it outright;

"Who did this?"

"Why's it matter?"

Steve tried not to lose his temper. Tried to keep calm, his hands pressed against his jeans while his nails scratched the fabric.

"You want to try and tell me you just go around getting into fights for fun, then?" Since Billy never wanted to tell him about who had hurt him or what had happened, it seemed like the only logical explanation. Except it wasn't. Steve knew this meant more than that. It wasn't 1984, Billy Hargrove wasn't seventeen years old and drowning in anger issues. He was nineteen and was being hurt.

Steve couldn't help it, he reached out to touch Billy's arm. The wince he received caught him off guard. Curious but gentle hands reached over, pulling the sleeve of Billy's jacket up, even if it was against his wishes. Beneath the fabric there were bruises blossoming, all the way up his forearm and lacing around his wrists. Rather suddenly, Billy ripped his arm away from Steve's grasp and stood up, looking away.

"It's my own damn business, Harrington," Steve could've sworn that he heard Billy's voice crack. He got up from the bench, already moving to stand in front of Billy, preventing him from getting away. He wasn't going to let him run away, not again.

"No, it's not just your business, Billy. Who's doing this shit to you?"

"Why do you care, Harrington? It doesn't fuckin' matter." His words betrayed how he felt; hurt. For the first time since he saw Billy staring into the mirror in his bathroom, crying over his loss of control, Steve saw a part of Billy that was in visible  _ pain _ .

"What--- Billy, it fucking does! You think this shit's normal?" Despite his seemingly harsh words, his voice was softer, this time. It seemed to strike a chord with Billy. He looked like he was about to say something harsh, but his expression melted, becoming unreadable.

"Why do you ask? You've gotta know," Steve had a feeling that Billy was referring to the pharmacy--- Hawkins was a small town. Chances were, most people knew about what had happened. But that wasn't what concerned Steve--- not entirely, anyway.

"I'm not talking about the pharmacy, Billy. This isn't just that, is it?" He didn’t know anything more than what Rosie had told him, but he really doubted that Billy had managed to hurt himself to this degree. Reckless or not, Billy Hargrove wasn’t prone to punching himself in the face.

At the accusation, Billy was frozen in place, his gaze distant and his chest tense. He finally looked back towards Steve, and Steve felt a pang in his own chest.

"I pissed my dad off," he said the words cautiously, in a small voice. "I--- I... just… He started yellin'." Billy was getting more nervous by the second, his gaze averted. "I--- I was feelin' sick. I couldn't--- I couldn't think straight---" Billy cut himself off and didn't continue. Steve could paint a mental picture--- Neil had the patience of a lit fuse. It lasted for a short amount of time, and it wasn’t nearly enough for anyone, let alone Billy. He wouldn’t be surprised if Neil had pushed Billy around for his misgivings, or if he’d had a  ** _talk _ ** with him after the debacle on main street.

Some kids knew what those kinds of  _ talks  _ were like. Less talking and more hurting. Whether by words or fists. Steve only heard about them in passing. Never imagined a friend to be suffering from that kind of shit, not until he was presented with the outcome.

"Billy," Steve began, trying to get closer to him. "You didn't do anything wrong. That wasn't your fault." He was like a broken record, but he thought that maybe if he said it enough times, Billy would believe it.

A terribly sad laugh got caught in Billy's throat, making Steve grimace.

"It was enough of my fault," the words chilled Steve more than the cold ever could. It was something grim, showing how resigned Billy was to how his life was.

"Billy, does--- does he do this? All the time?"

"Do what? Get pissed at his useless son?" A bit of Billy's bite was back, but it was fragile at best.

"Billy..." Steve shook his head, trying to catch Billy's gaze. "People shouldn't do that shit--- 'specially not to their fucking kids."

"Like anybody's got a good fucking dad? One that isn't absent or shitty?" Billy made an attempt at rolling his eyes, as if it could brush off the worry that Steve was feeling. It set a fire in Steve's stomach, making him mad--- plain fucking  _ mad _ . He couldn't deal with him being so flippant. Steve knew what it was like to have a father that let him down--- but he was nowhere near the level of shit that Neil Hargrove was.

"You think you deserve this?" He gestured to him, all of him--- the bruises on his face. The cigarette between his split lips. His bruised knuckles, his wrecked nails. He'd been putting on a tough act, but his lip quivered and his fingers shook. He could barely hold his cigarette. The smoke came off it in stutters, matching the shaking. 

Steve wondered what he'd have been doing if he'd known about this before. It felt so stupid of him to not have figured it out sooner. He'd been foolish in thinking that Neil could give a shit about his son just because he'd nearly died. He obviously had no respect for him, or anyone else.

"It's all I've got, Harrington," Billy said that in a deflated voice. Much like the one he'd heard a few months ago, when they'd been in front of his house. The night that everything went upside down, in the most human way possible. No monsters at all, no fucking superpowers making the world shake. Just that night when he started to care about Billy Fucking Hargrove.

"No, it's not--- you have," he bit his tongue. Hard. Like it'd make him rethink what he was going to say. "You have me. Fuck, you have the  _ kids _ . We're all worried about you, Billy."

"Yeah, right. The little shits are scared of me." Steve thought of all the times the kids had mentioned Billy, about the last time that Dustin had made conversation with him. The kid with the lowest tolerance for shit, and he regularly made conversation with or about Billy. Max seemed to enjoy his presence more than ever, even if her worried gaze was, more often than not, on Steve, as if asking him for help that she couldn't voice. Just the other day, Will had asked about Billy in his letter again;

_ 'is Billy okay? I wish I could be there. It's awful to go through alone...' _ Steve still had to write back. Steve didn't know what to fucking do right now, so he opened his fat fucking mouth and let the words fly free.

"Not anymore. They're not scared of you anymore. They're scared  ** _for _ ** you." The words seemed to shake Billy and he blinked, letting the shock settle in deep. He looked away and Steve sighed. Shared experiences did nothing to deepen their bond enough for him to believe Steve, that much was frustratingly clear. It didn't matter how much everyone cared for Billy, he still saw himself as something unforgivable.

Something  **unloveable** .

"You didn't deserve this, Billy." He never had, and he never would. Nobody deserved to be treated like this. Not even Steve, in the heat of the moment when they were fighting, would have wished this upon Billy.

Whereas Steve had never known monsters until two years ago, Billy had known them his whole life. The fact stung, like fire spreading over his skin, igniting a rage that Steve hadn't felt since he had protected the kids from the demodogs.

And just like then, all Steve wanted to do was keep somebody safe. But right now, he wasn't being allowed to do that.

\---

After listening to Steve, Billy's shoulders fell and he went in on himself. He thought of all the times he'd hated his father for the very thing he'd ended up doing. Treating people like shit, like they were scum--- for whatever reason. Judging them like his father's opinions were law and he was the enforcer. It'd morphed Billy into a walking armory; he plastered on layer after layer of dissociation, like it was camouflage that could keep him safe.

But it never did. Never would. Neil was Neil. He was Neil when Billy was a kid, and he'd be Neil in all the coming years. Still the same guy who'd lay hands on his kid for existing wrong.

He was a disappointment. He felt it in his bones and it kept him awake at night. ' _ You'd have been better off dead _ ', Neil had said to him, not many months ago, as if he'd wanted to survive to begin with. Like he really wanted to wake up every day, haunted by what he'd done.

"I fucking hated it," he said out of nowhere, the cigarette dropping from his lips as his fingers curled into fists. He felt like a child, tears in the corners of his eyes as he gritted his teeth. He didn't let Steve ask for the context of his words, and instead he said, "I didn't want to fucking hurt them. I didn't want that thing inside of me. I fucking tried, okay? I tried to stop it." And just like every other thing in his life, he hadn't been allowed control. He wasn't asked what he wanted.

He'd been a shithead. He'd been bad. He'd hurt people. Pushed Max around, yelled at her, blamed her for his life. Treated Lucas like shit because he was was the kind of safe haven for Max that Billy would never know. There was no Prince Charming on his horizon, nobody to drag him away from his evil fucking dad. That shit didn't happen to Billy Hargrove.

And honestly, he didn't even feel that he deserved that peace.

But he'd never wanted to fucking  _ kill  _ everyone in Hawkins. The one man he'd wanted to lay hands on when invulnerable, was the one man he didn't get to do shit to. Some form of divine punishment, probably. God looking down at him, mocking him for his sins.

Steve stared at him, processing the words, his eyes showing compassion that Billy Hargrove didn't deserve. It reminded him of all the lives lost over the Summer, casualties to the entity that had stolen part of his life and forced him to become a weapon.

"Why was I the one to survive, Steve? Wasn't like I fucking deserved it." He startled Steve by saying that, a ferocity behind his words that just wasn't expected. The pain of the last few months kept Billy's wounds fresh, always hurting, always bleeding. He may be alive physically, but every night he could hear the voices of those who had died thanks to him.

"You--- it's not your fault, Billy. It wasn't your fault!" Steve was obviously desperate to comfort him, but he just couldn't get through. Billy wouldn't let him.

"Doesn't fuckin' matter, does it? I'm a piece of shit. I'm no better than Neil, so why not deal with him?" His words were venomous, a flashback to how he'd been before Starcourt. A glimpse at the Billy who'd effortlessly punched Steve into a near coma. But through the cracks, Steve still managed to see the man who was hurting, the man who was  _ aching  _ for help.

"Billy," Steve tried, a hand going to his upper arm. Billy froze, and Steve seemed to weigh his options. "If you think I hated you before... I didn't. I let it go. Looked pretty fucking weird, a bunch of guys in a stranger's house, with your sister and shit. I get how it looked. And none of that other shit was your fault. You didn't ask for any of this. Will didn't ask for it and neither did you."

But Will had had something he didn't. He had a mother, someone who loved him. A brother who cared. A group of friends that'd  _ die  _ for him. Billy Hargrove didn't have any of that. He'd not known that kind of existence since he was a kid. And even then, he'd been abandoned. His mother had left him. Just like everyone else would.

"It's not just that," Billy was frustrated. His fists shook as he looked back up to Steve, desperation clear on his features, showing more of the little boy from years past, than the man he was.

"I've never been  ** _anything _ ** to  _ anyone _ ," he didn't think his words over before he said them, because when he heard himself speak, he burst into tears. He broke down right then and there.

He was not okay.

\---

It was with some semblance of shock that Steve realized why he'd been so mad. It was because he cared. He cared a  ** _lot_ ** . He hated seeing Billy like this, he hated thinking about all the times that Billy had been hurt in the past--- alone and scared, forced to endure the pain. He felt like an idiot for never noticing it. He felt even angrier that no one had stopped this from happening to him.

It wasn't just Neil. It was everything. When Billy had been possessed, it felt like something everyone accepted. Where was the sympathy they'd had for Will? Was Billy so forgettable that nobody noticed his possession until it was too late? Would they have killed him themselves, if not for the Mindflayer doing the job for them?

The thought made his skin crawl.

"You're---"  _ something to  _ ** _me_ ** _ . Something to  _ ** _Max_ ** .

"Why do you fucking care, Steve? Can't you just leave me the fuck alone, like every other person?"

No matter what he did, he just couldn't help. Steve bit his tongue, trying to hold back the things he wanted to say. Things he was sure he'd regret. Something to the tune of  _ because I love you _ . He tried to reach out to Billy--- he wanted to hug him. To do anything. But he reeled back and bristled.

"Get the fuck away from me, Harrington," the words hurt and Steve felt Billy push at him. Steve stepped back, narrowly avoiding being pushed to the ground. He watched as the Billy he knew faded away, unable to say anything to make him feel better. Billy would hate him for whatever he said, Steve was almost certain of that.

He'd gone through a lot of shit, but somehow this hurt the most. His mind was stuck on sweet memories that only made his chest ache more. Images of Billy relaxing near him. Talking to him freely. Of waking up after a shitty few days, dehydrated and feverish, only to see Billy Hargove in his house, taking care of him when nobody else would.

Objectively, he'd done a lot for Billy. But it was with a terrible, gut-wrenching realization, that he started to figure out that Billy Hargrove didn't look at his actions as friendly. He looked at them as a threat, just a debt or otherwise something temporary.

When all Steve wanted to be was  _ permanent _ .

\---

Steve had wanted desperately to offer Billy a place to stay, but the venom coursing through Billy's veins wouldn't let him accept affection, let alone assistance. He refused to let Steve drive him home, and instead Steve was forced to watch him start the long walk back. He felt sick to his stomach, unable to think straight. He knew damn well he wasn't going to be getting any sleep tonight, and yet he had to try. He had work in the morning.

Once he got home, he didn't bother eating dinner. He laid down, and before long he was letting his thoughts consume him. He wondered why he'd ever begun to care about Billy, why he'd let himself go down this path when he knew Billy was a goner.

But maybe that was exactly why he'd gotten to this point. Steve Harrington wasn't a man entrusted with such things--- he was pretty damn sure that literally anyone else could've done a better job at caring for Billy, but he still took the job on. He lived for the light in Billy's eyes when he laughed, and the way he looked when he was happily asleep. He'd dug himself this hole months ago, and he wasn't even sure when that had been.

No matter what he did, he couldn't stop thinking about Billy Hargrove.


	8. Side A, Keep The Car Running

He dreamt that Billy was dead.

The memories of Starcourt came flooding back, threatening to drown him if he wasn't careful. He hadn't thought much of seeing Billy's dying body, he was too busy checking on the kids--- worrying about Joyce and Hopper, and eventually grieving for the man they did lose.

It wasn't until now that he really thought about it all. About how Billy had looked. Pale, covered in pitch-black slime, like nothing more than the discarded puppet of the Mindflayer. They'd thought Billy was going to die.

And Steve hadn't felt a damn thing, really. Not back then.

People changed. A lot, sometimes. Fuck, Steve knew he'd changed--- he wasn't the same guy he was two years ago.

Neither was Billy Hargrove.

He had been surprised when Billy survived, but he hadn't felt inclined to celebrate. Max was less stressed out, and that was the only thing that had mattered. That was all he'd thought about. He’d been so busy with everyone else, he hadn’t spared much time or sympathy for the person who’d been hurt the most.

At least, until now. Now he was scared for some stupid fucking reason, as if time would turn back, like Starcourt would reclaim Billy's body and tear it apart when he wasn't looking. He wanted nothing more than to wake up and be able to see Billy--- to know that he was safe, that he was alive.

But try as he might, Steve couldn't tell himself that Billy was safe. He didn't know for sure. The Mindflayer was gone, but sometimes monsters hid among humans. Sometimes the worst monsters were the people you were supposed to trust.

\---

He called Rosie that night, at nearly midnight. Despite it being so late, he went over to her house. Told her he couldn't date her, that it didn't feel right and that it wasn't fair to her. She wasn't mad at him, she even hugged him. Comforted him, like she knew why he'd come to this conclusion.

He couldn't live with himself, not if he did what Nancy had done. He wasn't naive enough to think that Rosie loved him, or anything near that, but no one deserved to be lead on.

"It's okay, Steve. You're a cool guy. We can still be friends, right?"

He smiled, almost ready to cry out of relief. After all the stress from earlier, this was a welcome change.

"Yeah, Rose. You're a great friend. I don't want to lose you."

"You aren't about to lose me, Steve. I need someone to recommend shitty movies to me, you know?" And or the first time that night, he laughed, and it felt like it broke the ice around his heart. Rosie even let him stay over for a bit--- he didn't like to worry her, but at the same time, it was nice to have someone care. It was better than being alone with his thoughts, too.

\---

The next few days were a whirlwind of discomfort. Steve wasn't excited to tell Robin about his breakup, but she didn't seem to mind it. She didn't even make fun of him--- she just watched him, carefully, like he was going to have some kind of outburst.

He didn't. Instead, he kept his radio on the counter at the video store. He wore the necklace Billy had gotten him, letting it rest against his skin whenever he tucked it under his shirt. He'd never been big on jewelry, he'd mostly kept it hanging off a lamp in his room, but it comforted him now. After two days of the kids being absent, the radio finally came to life.

Steve was glad that Robin had gone out of the store to talk to her girlfriend. Laurie was her name; she had sunshine-blonde hair cut to shoulder length and deep brown eyes, and despite Robin’s best attempts at claiming otherwise, she was a damn nerd. He knew all that about her before he’d ever even seen her. Robin hadn’t spoken about her much at first, worried that she wouldn't last, but now Laurie visited the video store nearly every day and she and Robin seemed all the closer. Their talks about movies and books could go on  _ forever _ . It allowed Steve some wiggle room, while he dealt with all the shit in his life.

" _ Steve, are you around? Over _ ," he nearly dropped the pile of VHS tapes he had in his arms in the rush to get to the front of the store.

"Hey! Yeah. What's up, Max? Over," he tried not to sound breathless, or eager. Or like he was about to vomit from his nerves.

"Billy's doing better. He was feeling a little sick," even Max sounded doubtful about that, but Steve wasn't even sure of how much she knew. Fuck, Steve himself didn't know how much he knew. "Are... are you guys still friends?"

It was a loaded question. One that wasn't followed with their usual sign-off.

"Y--- yeah. I think we are."  _ I hope we are _ , was what he wanted to say.

"He's going to the hospital for his tests. He'll be gone a few days," neither Billy nor Max had mentioned that more than a few times, but Steve wasn't surprised. He'd tensed at hearing about him going to the hospital, though he knew it wasn't that unusual. After all the shit with the Mindflayer, Billy was bound to need more attention than his home could offer.

"Thanks for telling me, Max. If you need anything, just lemme know, over," he breathed a sigh of relief. He wondered if the hospital staff would be able to discount Billy's bruises as accidental. He wondered if anyone even gave a shit. It wasn't like he could do anything about it himself. All he could do was distract himself. And hope that by the time Billy got back, he'd be willing to talk.

If they could go weeks without talking and still remain friends, they could last a few days. They'd fought before, and Steve was sure they'd do it again---

but he was not ready to let Billy Hargrove go. Not without a fight.

\---

Amicable as it'd been, Steve was still stressed over the breakup. That on top of his worrying about Billy made him unpleasant to be around, and Robin, who was sick to death of his attitude, voted for them to go to a movie together. It was something romantic ( _ he'd seen every other movie at least twice _ ), and he didn't even know the name of it. But the actor and actress kissed and all he saw was Billy Hargrove.  **Billy Hargrove ** kissing  _ him _ .

That had him out of the theater and running for fresh air faster than he'd ever moved before. Robin was more than a little worried, but he passed it off as having eaten a bad hotdog earlier. He did kind of feel like puking, anyway, so it wasn't a terrible excuse.

On more than a few occasions, he'd considered telling Robin about New Years. But he felt paranoid, like it was a boundary he wasn't allowed to cross. Part of him wouldn't have been surprised if Billy beat his ass should he tell anyone. Honestly, Steve just wanted to forget. To have a chance at letting it all go--- to have a chance at being what Billy needed. A  _ friend _ .

He was sat in his car as he thought about everything.

So maybe he did really like Billy Hargrove. Steve felt like a damn idiot whenever he got stuck staring into Billy's eyes. He'd see that shithead grin and feel his heart flutter, like he was some kind of  _ girl  _ that Billy was  ** _wooing_ ** . He was a few short steps away from acting like those fucking  _ moms  _ did at the pool last Summer.

To Billy's credit, it didn't fucking take much. Steve had never doubted that Billy was gorgeous enough to be as popular as he wanted to be with zero effort, but he really hated that he was  _ actually noticing  _ that. Billy Hargrove was undoubtedly hot. Steve Harrington wanted to crash his car and pray for amnesia or a coma so he never had to think that thought again.

Even at his lowest, shame ate away at him. He already felt like a damn joke, he didn't need his feelings to make him into an even bigger one. Robin had Laurie, Nancy had Jonathan, fuck, even most of the  _ kids  _ had a girlfriend or boyfriend. But despite the variance, he just couldn't think of himself as a viable  _ anything  _ for  **anyone** .

It felt sudden, but maybe it wasn't. Maybe he'd acknowledged it before. But he didn't think on it that fucking much. Some part of him would claim that he'd like to rewind back to a time when the best interaction they'd had was Billy throwing a beer at him and then not talking to him for months. The other part of him clung to the memory of their New Years kiss and wouldn't let go, because that was the hill his brain wanted to die on.

He'd woken up, more than a few times, sweaty and confused with Billy on his mind. Usually he had nightmares.

Now he just had Billy.

Kind of poetic, he figured. At least, Robin would say that, if she knew about this. Billy used to be a walking nightmare anyway.

They still barely saw each other. Billy didn't seem keen on talking to him anymore, but he at least didn't get enraged whenever Steve was around. He refused to talk about whatever happened in his house, and pretended like everything was fine. Like he'd never cried in the park, or shown glimpses of his bruised skin.

Despite their distance, Billy was on his mind more than when he'd been staying in his own home.

\---

As if a catalyst for all his problems becoming unbearable, he received a letter from Will;

' _ I think I like someone _ _'_, it said. And Steve, staring off into space while sitting in the video store parking lot, finally felt an uncontrollable urge to tell someone about the shit that was going on with Billy. His gaze was on a movie poster recently put up in the store window, but he could hardly see it. It was just a blend of colors, a blur of words. A mess, like his damn life was.

He didn't even know who he could reach out to, or why everything felt so intense all of a sudden, like a dam had broken. It wasn't like he was going to go to a damn fifteen year old. Will needed his help and advice, he didn't need Steve being a fucking idiot. Besides, they had limited time on the phone. He didn't want to waste it on being a sadass. He'd also rather eat glass than talk to any of the other kids.

With no solutions in sight, Steve banged his head against the steering wheel, perhaps with a little too much gusto, since he slammed on the horn. Not the most embarrassing thing he'd done today. Earlier he'd gotten up and pulled a stream of photos out of his dresser drawer and pinned them to his bedpost, in a fit of manic sentimentality. It didn't take rocket science to figure out who the pictures were of. And it wasn't like the subject of the photos would see them there. Billy hadn't even gone into his room in the last month.

Steve also had some of the photos in his pocket. The same ones that had been in his car before, when Billy had found them. For all his nerves, he was rather shameless these days; he reached into his pocket and pulled them out, gazing at the pictures. In them, Billy was sticking his tongue out, alternating between peace signs and flipping the bird. Steve looked flustered in all of them.

He looked about as stupid back then as he felt right now. Like it'd erase that feeling, he shoved the pictures under his sun visor and angrily turned his car on. It was getting warmer, but it was still fucking miserable half of the time, and the cold was eating at him almost as much as his insecurity. It was like four pm by that point, and when he got home, he'd be able to give Will a call. Maybe it'd get his mind off this shit, finally.

Once he arrived home, he strolled into his house and appreciated the silence. No parents nagging, no Billy distracting him. He sighed and dialed the phone effortlessly. He could call the Byers' half asleep, drunk, or whatever.

"Hello?" It was Joyce who answered. He suppressed a groan as he tried his best to sound put together.

"Hey, Joyce. What's up? I was gonna talk with Will for a bit," he knew he sounded off, like he was trying to be happy when he wasn't, but he couldn't help it. It was the best he could do.

"Oh, Steve! Will's out, so is Jane. They have--- some kind of after school activity," she sounded slightly worried, which didn't surprise Steve, as she'd been paranoid of the kids ever since  _ '83.  _ But then the worry went from her kids to him and he felt overwhelmed.

"Are you okay, Steve?" It was such a genuine, caring question. It made Steve's heart ache. He never really spoke to his own mom about anything, in fact, he felt like Joyce was more like his mother than anyone else--- and as much as Jonathan had been a source of his woes, he didn't---he  ** _couldn't_ ** dislike Joyce--- god, he fucking loved her. She was a great woman, he'd do anything for her. He was pretty damn sure she'd do anything for him, too. Besides, he adored Will now, and obviously Jane, too. Jonathan could suck an egg, though.

"Uh..." He weighed the pros and cons of telling her the truth. "... no." He bit back a sigh as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. Joyce was quiet on the other end. He wondered if she could hear how lovesick he sounded, and his question was answered.

"Girl... girl trouble?" He could hear it in her voice; a plea to the universe that this wasn't about Nancy. It wasn't, but in a way, he wished it was. He wished that it was that simple, that it was the same pain he was used to. But it wasn't. It still hurt, but it was  _ new _ .

"..." Steve felt his throat tighten and his stomach churn. "Gu--- guy. Guy trouble," he murmured quiet as he sank to the floor, phone still in hand. The other end was silent and he felt like crying. He'd barely told Joyce about Rosie, but he was pretty sure one of the kids would've mentioned his breakup. It was hot news in their social circle, which was mortifying. And now here he was, admitting to---  _ this _ .

"Oh, honey," Joyce said, like this was all expected. And really, Steve wondered how he could be so fucking obvious. Was anyone surprised by his stupid antics?

"It's okay, Steve. Did he hurt you?" Joyce asked that in such a kind voice, as if this were normal--- and really, Steve wondered, why wasn't it normal? Why couldn't you like a guy if you were a guy? Why couldn't you like a girl if you were a girl? his sadness shifted into anger and he curled a fist around the phone cord in his hand.

He was gonna give himself a fucking award, someday. He took things well. He could adapt, if he really tried. But he just kept shooting himself in the foot, refusing every chance at a normal, happy life.

"No," he sighed. "... sorry," he apologized for making it awkward. For taking up precious time on the phone. He vaguely heard a door open in the background of his call with Joyce and he swallowed thickly.

Maybe he'd spent some time crying over Nancy. When he figured out what was going on, that his original fears were correct. That she was with Jonathan. God, of all people,  _ Jonathan _ . Then he'd moved on and tumbled right into a metaphorical brick wall, with Robin being a lesbian. He had nothing against that, but he still felt like an ass for even suggesting dating to her. Probably wouldn't have worked out even if she liked guys. Besides, he cared about her--- beyond all that stupid shit. The shit that had you going on meaningless dates, halfheartedly making out in cars, and all that bullshit. She knew he was a sore loser and she didn't care. She helped him get a job, too. But for all that was worth, you couldn't pay him to keep a decent girlfriend--- one who'd willingly dated him like he was hot shit.

But here he fucking was, mind stuck on Billy Hargrove like a hopeless, lovesick moron. Steve Harrington really knew how to pick 'em.

He was in such a daze, he barely even registered when Joyce said, "Steve, do you need me?" and he also wasn't sure if Joyce had actually said anything else. He'd zoned out, but now he could hear Will and Jane chattering in the background. He felt awful.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I need you, Joyce," he said it before he considered the consequences. He felt tears stinging at the corners of his eyes and a tightness in his throat, making it hard to say anything else.

\---

Some minutes later, he wondered why the fuck he hadn't just gone to Robin. It was beyond him. But maybe it was because he was just so fucking  _ scared _ . Not to mention totally out of his depth.

Robin wouldn't judge him. Maybe this kind of shit could even strengthen their friendship. God, she'd seen him eat cheez whiz on gummy bears. They'd been trapped by Russians and dealt with a gigantic fucking monster. He'd seen and done worse than like Billy Hargrove. But Robin lived in Hawkins, and so did Billy. Like an inescapable prison filled with people he needed a break from.

So packing a bag and ditching Hawkins didn't seem like such a bad idea. He missed Will and Jane. He missed Joyce. He didn't want to be here. Win/Win.

He was in his car before he really thought about it.

Joyce lived a few hours away. Still in the middle of nowhere, but the town was bigger than Hawkins. Less depressing, a little more lively, and a lot fucking colder.

It was eleven pm by the time he pulled into their driveway; he felt numb after the last thirty minutes of struggling to find their house, but he was grateful when Joyce came running out of the house at full speed. A snow plough didn't have shit on her.

"Steve! Everyone's asleep, so let's be quiet," she practically dragged him out of his car, as if to avoid him second-guessing his trip. The house was small, and really, he'd be surprised if it had more than two bedrooms. He felt kind of guilty for intruding.

"Jonathan's asleep, too," Joyce clarified, like that made things any better. It did, a little bit, anyway. He might die on the spot if he were stuck with Jonathan while having these kinds of talks.

And then they were inside and it was toasty warm. Warmer than the old Byers house had been in the Winter time. He was happy for Joyce; she'd deserved a better house and she definitely got it. He hoped she was happy.

"This is nice," he said as she ushered him into the kitchen. She was prepared as always and had a tea kettle already boiling. Hot cocoa was on the table within a few seconds.

"There's not a lot of room," she admitted, as if Steve didn't have eyes, "but there's the couch. I've got it all set up for you, okay?" She smiled and, despite the hurricane of emotions Steve was currently feeling, he added a new one on top; feeling a little less shitty.

"Thanks... you're a real nice lady, you know that?" Steve's eyes were tired as he said that, but he smiled and felt comforted when Joyce put her hand on his.

"We're family, Steve. I'm always here for you." A year ago, he may not have believed that. But he did now. Kind of ironic how the distance only made them closer.

"Do you want to talk about anything?"

"Don't you have work tomorrow?" He asked that with a grim feeling in his gut. He'd made Joyce stay up late for his sorry ass. She worked hard and didn't get a lot of free time, and here he was, eating it all up like he deserved it.

"No, I have the day off," Joyce was lying, but Steve, for all of his selfishness, was grateful. Joyce's days off were Saturday and Monday. Steve had it memorized; she always scheduled doctors appointments for Mondays and took the kids out on Saturdays. Tomorrow was Sunday. 

"I... I don't know what I'm feeling," He finally said, feeling lost as he looked down at the mug of cocoa that he had his chilled fingers wrapped around.

"That's okay. We all get like that," Joyce had gotten up from her chair that was sat across from him, and she moved it so that she was sitting directly next to him instead. Her hand was on his arm, her head tilted to look at him with a motherly gaze that he just wasn't used to.

"He--- uh," Steve felt fucking weird for saying this to Joyce Byers, of all people. But then again, in the ragtag group of friends and acquaintances he had, he almost felt like he and Joyce were the most similar. They both cared for the kids more often than not, and even from hundreds of miles away, Joyce was a better mother than a lot of the Hawkins kids would ever have.

"He... he kissed me. On New Years..." Steve trailed off, a frown tugging at his lips. "I... I don't know. I can't stop thinking about it..."

"Are you--- are you dating? Him?" 

"N---no!" Steve felt shocked by the question for some stupid reason. He'd called Joyce about guy troubles and then got surprised when she assumed he was dating? Well, it was almost flattering.  _ That anyone thought he could get a damn date _ . Or stay in an even  _ vaguely  _ meaningful relationship.

"He's..." Steve searched for the words. "... I don't think he's like that..." People had spun rumors about Billy, but Steve was a decent dude and didn't listen to shitty gossip. Not by the time Billy had come around. And he certainly wouldn't bet his love life on rumors.

God. Love life. Like he'd ever had one of those. His last  _ real _ one had been a lie. And as nice as Rosie had been, they hadn't been in love. To top it off, Billy Hargrove wasn't a guy he pictured loving anyone. He loved his Camaro. That was about it. At best, he could feel moderate  ** _lust_ ** , but  _ love _ ...? Hell, had Billy ever genuinely  _ liked  _ anyone?

"I'm sorry," Joyce murmured, and now she had an arm around him and a different hand on his. She seemed to pick up on his pain better than anyone else could, and knew that maybe not much more than  _ I'm sorry _ could be said.

"Thanks..." Steve sighed, leaning into her hold. "I--- I just. I feel kind of stupid, you know?" He laughed, but it hurt. He knew Joyce noticed it, because his eyes were watering and he was shaking just a bit.

"Love doesn't always make things easy, I'm afraid."  _ Love _ . Was love what he felt? Did he love Billy Hargrove? Furthermore, did he want to think about that? Not really. He felt miserable, as if simultaneously freed by telling someone about how he felt, while also still being crushed by the weight in his heart.

"--- but you're not stupid, Steve. Love comes in a lot of forms. I love you." She'd said it before, once or twice. Mostly when he'd saved her from a day of kids being in her face. She loved all of the Hawkins kids, but a woman needed a day off, every now and then. Steve used to be responsible for that. She had trusted him with Will, and that said a lot.

He missed her being in Hawkins. He missed that constant show of trust.

"I... I love you too, Joyce. You're a great mom." Will and Jane were lucky to have her. Jonathan too, he guessed, though he still had some sour feelings for him. Hard not to.

"You're like a son to me, Steve. I'll always be here for you, you know that, don't you?"

"I--- I do," definitely, now. In his heart, he knew Joyce would've never looked down on him for anything. It's why he went to her when he felt like he had no one else. She was a safe place. She could keep a secret until her death, and that was the only thing Steve wanted and needed right now.

"... are you okay? With--- with how you're...  _ feeling _ ?"

"I don't know," Steve admitted, still staring at his cocoa. He took a few sips and breathed a sigh of relief at the comfort it brought. He didn't judge Robin for being a lesbian, but could he accept himself for being gay?  _ Or whatever the fuck he was? _

"It's not anything bad, Steve," Joyce sounded adamant about that.

"It's not something most people like a person for."

"Well, a lot of people aren't nice. It doesn't change who  _ you  _ are, if  **they're ** mean."

Steve stared off, wondered if he'd get his ass beat for even thinking about this shit. Would Billy beat him up for thinking about him this way? Or would it just be everybody else?

If he tried, would Billy remember that he was the one who had kissed  _ him _ ?

"If--- if he ever hurts you---" Joyce sounded torn, upset. He couldn't look at her. "If anyone ever hurts you, Steve--- you'll call me, won't you? You'll tell me?"

So she could haul ass across the states to do what, worry about him? Go into debt because he was an idiot? Steve would feel awful.

"Yes," he lied, knowing full well that he couldn't bear to tell her about that kind of shit. Real-time ass kicking and idle heartbreak were two different things.

"Please do," Joyce said that close to his ear, before kissing his cheek and then his forehead. She was standing up, going over to the sink to do a few dishes. It felt mundane, and on some level, normal, which was absolutely what Steve was craving.

"You should rest. Do you need something to eat before you sleep?"

"No--- thanks. I'm good." He'd eaten something along the way, a subpar sandwich, so he'd live until morning.

"Okay. If you get hungry, you can help yourself to anything you want. If you need me, my room is at the end of that hallway," she pointed towards a dimly lit walkway. From where he was, Steve could make out four doors. One looked a bit newer and different than the others. He idly wondered if Joyce had split a room or two, so that Will and Jonathan didn't have to share. "The first one on the left is the bathroom."

Steve got down the rest of his cocoa and he and Joyce didn't say much else for the time-being. It was quiet and nice, the hum of the fridge acting like something of a lullaby. Steve's head hit the pillow lovingly laid out for him and it felt like he was asleep before he could even close his eyes.

\---

So, he felt pretty fucking bad, still. He woke up feeling guilty, but also with Will in his face. The kid looked delighted, but not shocked.

He wondered what Joyce had said about his visit.

He felt shitty enough that he insisted on buying them lunch. Got a pizza delivered as he watched some movies with Will. After that, Will showed him a few books he'd liked, and his growing cassette collection. Jonathan groaned about something to do with musical taste when he passed them by, but then he was gone. Steve was grateful for that.

Joyce was busy with housework, but insisted that Steve relax with Will. Jane was absent, as she had been sleeping over at a friend's house to do a school project. So it was just him and Will, while Joyce did something in her room.

"Hey, are you okay...?" Will's still-little voice took him by surprise. He tilted his head down at the kid and couldn't help but smile. They'd just been reading over some of the letters Dustin had sent--- they were obviously Will's prized possessions, and honestly, the writing was pretty good.

"I'll be okay. What about you? You wanna talk about what was in your letter?"

Will looked torn, which was exactly how Steve felt. He was desperate for some kind of distraction, though.

"I--- I didn't. I didn't think you'd just...  ** _show up_ ** ," Steve couldn't help but laugh a bit at that. It felt good to laugh. He stretched his legs out as he leaned back against the side of Will's bed.

"Neither did I. Miracles happen and they're in the shape of  _ me _ ," that earned a laugh from Will, and it lightened the mood. There was a stretch of silence shared between them as Steve looked through some of the trading cards that Will had gotten since Christmas.

"I--- I just don't know. What does it feel like... to--- to  _ like  _ someone?" Steve felt his stomach drop as he was asked that. What  _ did  _ it feel like?

"Well--- can't speak for you, but," he thought on it, on how he always felt warmer when he thought about certain people, or when he was with them. He thought about how he'd get little things stuck in his head,  _ like bruise-drowned freckles and lightning blue eyes _ , and it was with great displeasure that he found himself relating feelings he'd had for Nancy, to  _ Billy _ .

"Warm, I guess? Kinda like you drank something hot. You like looking at them." He paused, trying not to frown. "You... you want them to be happy."

A confused look was aimed at him as Will said, "don't you feel that way about most of your friends?" Against all odds, Steve laughed at that.

"Yeah. Yeah I guess--- it's just different, sometimes," he thought more about it, and all he could think of was Billy's eyes. "You get them stuck in your head. Kinda like you're always staring at a picture of them. Or--- maybe you are doing that, I don't know," Steve shrugged, rapidly feeling himself become self-conscious.

"Yeah... okay," Will nodded slowly, staring out the nearby window. He had his hands in his lap and he was fiddling with his fingers. He seemed about as nervous as Steve did.

"Who's the lucky gal? She go to your school?" The question made Will tense up, and he swallowed as he shook his head.

"No, uh--- I mean, yeah. Yeah, she goes to my school," he seemed downtrodden, which made Steve frown.

"Will? You okay?"

"... yeah. I'm fine, sorry. I was spacing out," he tried to smile, but it looked like an almost mirrored version of the shit Steve was pulling.

"Hey. I'm sure it'll work out, okay?" Steve put an arm around Will's shoulder and the kid leaned into him. "If it doesn't, there's plenty of fish in the sea. You're a great lil' guy." Better than Steve was, at any rate.

"Thanks--- uh, you mind if I get to writing my letters?" Will sounded a bit distant, like he often did. Steve shrugged and got to his feet.

"Yeah, go for it. I'm gonna take a walk." It'd clear his head, and freeze his balls off if he was lucky.

"We'll do something later!" Will shouted that out to him when he was halfway down the hallway. He was pretty exuberant for having been sad a few seconds ago, but then again, he always seemed happier when he was doing art or writing. Steve hoped that maybe he had caused some of that happiness.

Steve pulled on his mittens, scarf, and hat before he trudged outside. It was fucking freezing and he hadn’t brought a very thick coat, but he'd live. Not a lot of places to go, nowhere within walking distance, anyway. If he tried to walk to the nearest store, he'd be found frozen to the sidewalk a mile away.

He sighed as he exited the house and shoved his mitten-clad hands into his pockets. It wasn't icy outside, at least. A few paces from the house he turned around, and through the open curtains, he could see Will at his desk. He looked happy, still, which was a relief. He was writing furiously, likely to one of the other kids. He knew Jane didn't write much unless it was to him, Mike, or Max, but Will probably had a lot of letters to write in the day. He'd even begun sending some to Robin, albeit through Steve.

Will, for once, was luckier than Steve was. Had a person he liked, had a ton of friends his age who loved him, and he had a nice, supportive mother. Good brother, too, even if Steve wouldn't readily admit to that. He was more than happy to say that Jane was a badass sister, though.

\---

Jane had been on the phone earlier, upset that she couldn't come home until later. Steve comforted her by saying that they'd have time together later. And they did--- she was back in the house by two pm and Steve was done with his walk a lot sooner than that. He was curled up on the couch by the time she got back.

"Steve," she greeted him, her smile reaching her eyes. "You can paint my nails?" Before she'd moved, he'd done it for her ( _ and Max _ ) a few times. It was fun. He liked doing it.

"Yeah. Go get the polish and we'll get to work," he winked at her with his last bit of energy, glad to see her so happy to see him. She brought out some pink polish, a soft color that he didn't expect to like.

"Nice shade," he smiled at her as she sat on the coffee table, eagerly putting her hands out as she wiggled her fingers. Her nails were already filed and trimmed. Jane took good care of herself, which comforted Steve.

Being with Jane was easier than most of the other kids. She and Will were often quiet and contemplative, which gave Steve a break. He enjoyed the silence as he painted her nails--- he was more than a little impressed with himself when he did a decent job. His success made him think that maybe he should do it with Max more.

"You... you care about someone, don't you?" Jane took him by surprise when she said that. "I... I've checked up on you. Once or twice." His blood ran cold, but she didn't follow it up with anything else. No disgust, no intrusive questions.

"I care about a lot of people," he tried that response, his gaze averted as he looked over her nails.

"Yes. But not in the same ways." Jane wasn't as naive as she used to be, which was both a good and bad thing.

"It's not something you have to worry about," Steve sighed and let her hands go, running his fingers through his hair. Jane got up from the coffee table and sat beside him, leaning into him.

"It's nice to care about people, like I care about Mike and Max," Steve furrowed his brows at that example. Why those two were paired together in Jane's mind, he didn't know--- but maybe it was because Max was her best friend.

"Yeah. I'm just not very good at it, y'know?" Steve shrugged, letting himself flop back against the couch.

"That's silly. You can't be bad at caring about people," she said that more like she meant him  _ personally _ , which also meant she had a lot of faith in him. He didn't know why she did, but he felt flattered.

"I--- I guess you're right. But--- not everyone's like Max and Mike are," Steve frowned, looking down at his hands. Jane caught his attention by taking one of his hands into both of hers, her curious eyes gazing up at him when he finally looked to her.

"I'm sure they care about you, too," Jane's words were like a promise he couldn't believe in, but he desperately wanted to. He could only smile and nod, letting the conversation drop.

\---

Joyce had gone out earlier, though Steve couldn't remember why. He was sitting in the living room with Jane and Will, watching whatever was on TV while they tried to put together a puzzle on the coffee table. Neither of the kids were very talkative, until Will cleared his throat.

"You know... I feel bad that I didn't talk to Billy at all, on Christmas..." Will had mostly spent his time with Dustin, which Steve had noticed. He knew well of the fact that Will was shy, which was why he didn't push him to interact with Billy.

"I spoke to him for you," Jane said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Yeah, but--- I mean, I should've?"

"Hey, it's not your job to talk to anybody, Will. I'm sure Billy appreciated El talking to him," he'd noticed how Billy had acted, he seemed less tense around both Jane and Will. 

"I still feel bad..." Will sighed, staring at his pile of puzzle pieces.

"You can talk to him the next time we visit," Jane reasoned, a hand on Will's back.

Steve felt a pang in his chest, and he sadly said, "yeah. I'm sure you can." Except, he  _ wasn't _ that sure. He didn't know if Billy would ever talk to him or the kids again. He seemed so distant, so far away--- Steve wasn't sure if he'd ever see the Billy he knew again. And yet, he still couldn't get him off of his mind.

\---

Joyce had decided to go on a car ride with Steve--- the official reason was ' _ to get ice cream _ ', but Steve knew the kids probably could put two and two together. That something was up. If they didn't know it before, they knew it now. Neither of them had asked about why he was here, and that felt a little suspicious, especially given Jane's choice of topics earlier.

They took Steve's car, and absentmindedly, Steve was grateful that the damn thing hadn't broken down again. It'd stopped making its wheezing and sputtering noises after its recent trip to the mechanic, but he wouldn't be surprised if it had an issue before he got back to Hawkins. He was willing to pay that price, at least.

Meanwhile, the silence shared between himself and Joyce was short.

"Steve---" she started, once they were a few miles away from her house. "There's nothing wrong with you for how you're feeling. I know what they say. And they're---" She took a deep breath, laid a hand on his. "They're wrong. You know that? Right?" She looked so confident, so sure of herself. She obviously had no qualms with what was going on, she only wanted to be there for him. She'd fight for him, and he knew it. Joyce cared enough about his well-being to talk about this, when it felt like everyone else would've wanted to sweep it under the rug.

"... yeah--- I--- I do. Th-thanks..." Steve felt tears pricking at his eyes, but he desperately didn't want Joyce to see them.

"I'm here for you, Steve. I always will be. Okay?"

" _ Okay _ ."

\---

He told her, more about how he was feeling. He didn't say any names, and she didn't ask. She just listened. Their car ride took over an hour, and they nearly forgot the ice cream. When he got out of his car, he hugged her. It felt weird--- Steve didn't hug many people, hadn't hugged his own mom with such ferocity in over ten years.

"You're okay, Steve. It's all gonna be okay."

"I hope so," Steve murmured, wiping at his eyes before he put a smile on his face and ventured inside. They spent the night talking to each other and staying up later than they should--- it felt weird, being in a house where he felt like he was a part of a family. At the end of the night, Jonathan gave him a hug, and it was more than a little concerning.

"Hope you're doing okay," was all he'd said, before awkwardly shuffling away to his room. Steve doubted that Joyce had told him anything, which made the sentiment mean more. He and Jonathan were seldom on good terms, but he surprisingly felt a little bit better after the exchange.

Everyone was tired, but there was a sense of peace in the Byers house. Steve fell asleep with Will against his side and Jane's head in his lap, drifting off into a sleep without nightmares for the second time in the last few weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love this chapter but i hate it for how long it is. i am but a dyslexic gay. ill be real with you, scoobs, i will die if i have to read this chapter again. anyway do you like how i am allergic to keeping elmax insinuations out of my fic (edit as of june 2020, imagine how i felt after proof reading this chapter for a SIXTH time)


	9. Side A, Head Over Heels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit as of june 2020: please enjoy the FANTASTIC 'is goth code for gay?' dialogue that my boyfriend helped me with

He left at five in the morning, since he had a shift at work at three pm, and though he was relatively exhausted, he was pretty sure he could live with getting up this early. He'd make it back to Hawkins before noon, if he was lucky.

_ He wasn't so lucky _ . He ended up with an ill feeling planted in his gut, making his paranoia and hesitance even worse. He stopped at a few gas stations and found himself crying, though at this point he wasn't even sure why. It just kind of happened as he sipped down god-awful coffee and tried to will himself together. Steve had never been a particularly  _ weepy  _ kind of guy, but he was also figuring out that he'd been repressing a lot of his emotions. It wasn't exactly a fun ride, in the car  _ or  _ in his mind.

He got home at two, which meant he had about twenty minutes to pull himself together and get to his job. 

"Where the Hell were you, Harrington? The kids wouldn't leave me alone all weekend," Robin looked disgruntled when he came in--- he noticed at least some bit of worry, too, but Robin's unhappiness overshadowed it by a mile.

"Oh? Sorry. I had to do some stuff." He didn't look like he'd been crying, at least. He'd put some of the face moisturizer his mother wore onto his face, in a prayer that it'd help him look less like shit.

"Really? So much stuff that you couldn't answer the phone? Or, I don't know, the damn radio you cart around everywhere?"

"... yeah. I was--- I was getting stuff for my parents," he paused, trying to think of a decent excuse, "y'know, had to go to Indianapolis." It wouldn't have been the first time he'd dragged his ass there to do something. Usually it was for concerts, though he'd gone there a few times on errands that his parents gave him. It was an excuse that just barely passed by Robin's bullshit radar, but she still didn't talk to him until it was lunch and he got her her favorite burger and fries.

\---

A few days after he got home, he got a letter from Will. A little soon for that, but he wasn't going to complain. But what was inside made him feel a whole slew of emotions.

' _ I overheard you and mom _ ', it said somewhere down the first page. Like the world was falling in on itself, Steve felt his mind go numb. 

' _ I'm like you, I didn't know how to tell you _ .'  ** _Like him_ ** . Steve's mouth was dry as he stared off, uncharacteristically contemplative. Robin was in the seat next to him--- not an unusual thing, but she looked concerned when she waved a hand in front of his face.

"Steve? You okay over there?"

He struggled to pull himself together, swiftly folding the letter up and putting it back into its envelope. He nodded, putting on a convincing smile as he looked back to Robin. He decided he'd read the rest of Will's letter later, even if it'd be hard to get through the next few hours.

\---

All he'd been told is that he was picking up Laurie--- but somehow he ended up rolling past the record store and picking up two extra people. He recognized one of them, the same big-haired, darkly dressed girl he saw in the video store occasionally. Sometimes they spoke--- he was pretty sure that her brother was one of Dustin and Will's friends. Not to mention Donnie  _ also _ being her brother. But she was infinitely more intimidating than him.

He raised an eyebrow at how close she was with the other girl who'd come into the car--- she was introduced as Ser, and Robin, knowing just how oblivious Steve was, did him the kindness of introducing Donnie's sister, too. It wasn't that he didn't know her, but he definitely would've fucked up her name. At least he knew it was  _ Selena _ now.

After he finally got around to picking Laurie up, he noticed something peculiar. Laurie and Robin were both very open about their plans--- their  _ dates _ . And he felt a little confused, for a moment, until he hit a stoplight and looked in the rearview mirror, eyeing the three girls in the backseat.

"Are--- are you guys..." He was going to say,  _ on a date _ , but Selena snarkily chimed in with, ' _ goth? _ ' and it threw him off guard.

"Is that, like," he looked to Robin, confused, "code for gay?" Which then promptly made three out of four girls burst into laughter, while Robin sighed and shook her head. She didn't even know where to begin with that.

"Yeah, Steve. I'm  _ goth _ ," Selena used quotation marks and rolled her eyes, but at least his idiocy was amusing instead of infuriating. He was, however, still pretty confused. 

"Does, uh, Tommy know?" Because he always saw them together. In fact, he was pretty sure Tommy operated as a full-time member of the Swan family. The look Selena gave him was a strange one, and he blinked. Robin patted his arm and simply told him, "maybe now's not the time, hotshot," to which, Steve supposed he agreed. He did vividly recall Tommy grilling him for acting  _ faggy _ on one occasion or another, but maybe he wasn't like that anymore. Steve didn't know how he could be to begin with, when he had  _ Donnie _ as a best friend. He wasn't one to talk, though.

Either way, it wasn't his conversation to have, so he tried to move on by putting some music on--- only for Selena to slap a tape down on the back of the seat, telling him to put it on, because she was  _ not _ listening to whatever garbage he had planned. He didn't bother to mention that this was his car, and instead it was his turn to sigh as he slipped the tape in and got ready for a day of chaos.

\---

It was a long day. By the time he got home, he was exhausted--- Robin had decided that it was Steve's job to take her and Laurie around for their Spring shopping. Robin wasn't too into clothes shopping, but Laurie had a job as a gardener lined up, and she needed clothes for work. So he'd spent the better part of his day lugging around their purchases, sitting through hours of decision making. On top of that, he had to pick Ser and Selena up again towards the end of the day, and they all went out to dinner together.

It wasn't so bad, though. It was nice to forget about things for a little bit, and to see Robin so happy. He didn't always go out with the two of them, but when he did, it made him happy. It helped keep his mind busy. At least, until he was sitting on his bed, opening Will's letter back up, though it was hardly as dramatic as he thought it'd be.

' _ Anyway, I really miss everyone. I hope I can come down for Summer vacation. El really wants to, too. _ ' Nothing about who the Hell the kid liked. Typical Will. He almost felt bad for not being truthful with him when he'd visited--- but it had been hard enough telling Joyce. And now Will knew, which meant Jane definitely knew. What if the other kids found out?

His worries were addressed at the bottom of the letter,

' _ Thank you, Steve. I told mom about me after you left. I was scared, but I know I shouldn't have been. Only El and mom know. We won't tell anyone. I don't want to tell anyone about me until we visit. _ ' It sounded fair, Steve knew he hadn't really liked admitting to his sexuality over the phone. He was pretty sure that the kids wouldn't care about Will's secret--- and thus, they wouldn't care about his, either. It was more a matter of  _ who  _ he liked. Not that he liked guys.

It was with a large sigh that he fell back onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling. The rush of air from the action made the photos pinned to his bedpost flutter, reminding him of the source of his issues. He felt grateful for Robin and Laurie wearing him out, because all he wanted was to sleep--- and fortunately, his body let him get that rest.

\---

Steve Harrington was far from subtle. He also wasn't the brightest, when it came to approaching certain topics. His whole damn life was proof of that. So that was how he'd ended up in his current situation, awkwardly waiting for an opportunity to talk to Robin while they tended to the store.

"How did you know you were---" Steve pursed his lips and furrowed his eyebrows. His nerves ate away at his confidence. Even organizing the tapes in the store couldn't keep him from shaking a bit.

"What? So gorgeous? Talented?  _ Amazing _ _?_" As she turned to look at him, Robin raised her eyebrows and put her hands on her hips. They were closing up, and her patience had been worn low by the shitty or quiet moods Steve had been in. Fortunately, she couldn't see how frazzled he looked, since she was across the store.

"... you know," Steve struggled, even though they were alone in the video store. No one was going to be coming in, Keith had left a half hour ago. They'd flipped the sign to  _ closed  _ and were just cleaning up.

"... Steve, what're you fucking going on about this time?"  _ Okay _ , so maybe he asked stupid questions a little too frequently. Shit like, ' _ was Jaws based on a real story? _ ', and ' _ do you think this is okay to drink? _ ' when he'd had a carton of expired-last-month milk in hand, pouring it out to reveal how disgustingly chunky it was. But this wasn't a stupid question, it was an important one, for once.

With a sigh, Steve hopped up onto the counter, arms crossed as he weighed his options.

"... how did you know--- you liked girls?"

Without missing a beat, Robin said, "because I couldn't stop staring at them, duh. Also, everyone was going on about how I should be looking out for a boyfriend, and boys were just, eternally gross to me."

That didn't really help Steve.

"Why'd you ask?" It wasn't malicious, but instead curious. Robin was, understandably, a bit protective of her identity--- it wasn't something you casually spoke of in Hawkins, and Steve respected that. He'd begun to understand the reasoning behind the paranoia Robin must feel.

"... I was just--- wondering if I was like that," he muttered, averting his gaze.

"Well no shit, dingus. You tried to ask me on a date. I think it's safe to say that you like girls."

She paused, the gears turning in her head. A proverbial light bulb went off, and Steve was grateful that he didn't have to say anything else in order for her to get what he'd been trying to say.

"... Steve? You--- are you gay?" No one had asked him that, not outright, and fuck if he knew the answer. It was one thing to have support, and he appreciated it endlessly when it came from Joyce, but it was a whole other ordeal to hear it being asked and said aloud.

"I--- I don't know..." His shoulders drooped and he didn't look up. He knew Robin wasn't going to be mean about it, but it still took him off guard when she gently placed a hand on one of his.

"Hey--- hey. Look at me, Harrington," Robin patted at his cheek. "You're good. It's not something to be upset about." He knew that was a lie. They'd gotten drunk a few months ago and she'd admitted that she felt terrible about  _ how she was _ , but Steve couldn't understand that--- Robin seemed so full of life and confidence. She was the most secure person he knew. But, everyone had their moments. He had a fucking lot of them, too. Probably more than most people, now that he thought about it.

"Thanks," he meant it. "... sorry, Robin--- I mean, just because you're---  _ y'know _ . Doesn't mean I should dump this shit on you."

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Steve. You know I'd want to be the first to know this Hot Harrington Gossip." She said that, but he knew she'd never tell a soul. But he couldn't help but laugh a bit though, the hilarity of it all cracking through his misery. It obviously shocked Robin, and it kind of shocked Steve, too, since he'd been feeling like such a sad piece of shit to begin with.

"What? Why are you laughing, dingus?"

"You--- you're not the first..."

"What?!" A VHS tape nearly went flying thanks to her shock.

"Yeah--- I, I told Joyce, a little while ago." In so many words, anyway.

"Are you serious, Steve? You told the mom of your ex-girlfriend's  _ boyfriend  _ before you told me?" She was fuming, both comedically and seriously. It was fucking funny, honestly--- he'd gambled by opening up to Joyce, but he could've just as easily told Robin, if he hadn't of been such a baby.

"When you say it like that, it sounds like I'm stupid."

"Don't worry, Steve," she said in a mockingly comforting tone voice as she put a hand on his shoulder. "You  _ are  _ stupid."

\---

" _ Well, Steve, we've got one less thing in common _ ."

The shock of it all kept things quiet, for the rest of the day, anyway. Robin had a date with Laurie, so she couldn't harass Steve freely. But the next day, she entered the video store with a contemplative look on her face.

"It's Billy Hargrove, isn't it?"

A clattering noise was heard as Steve fumbled with a tape he'd been applying a new sticker to.

"Wh--- what?" He'd been distracted, almost wondered if he'd heard her wrong. Alas, he was a fucking moron with Billy detection off the charts, so he knew what she'd said. He just didn't want to respond.

"It's him. He's the one--- the one who.  _ Y'know _ ," she rolls her eyes, mimicking Steve from yesterday. "... is he the one, who made you... think? about---" she was cut off as Keith came out from the back room. Steve gave her a panicked look and thank god, she directed her attention to Keith.

"Hey, big boss man. Did you know that Gale was asking about you?" She---  _ Gale _ , was the cashier at the salon next door. She was pretty attractive, but Robin called her  _ vapid _ .

"Huh? Really? When?"

"Oh, this morning. Had to pick something up for my mom. Asked me about you. Maybe you should see what's up?"

Keith, ever the idiot, didn't think about how Gale was obnoxiously out of his league. Steve had gone to school with Gale for only a year, but he knew how much of a bitch she could be. And Steve didn't really like to call girls that, but seeing as even Robin called her a bitch on more than one occasion...

"Couldn't hurt, buddy," Steve encouraged him, watching him bulldoze out of the store.

"Okay, we've got like. Probably five minutes," Keith could be dumb and didn't take any hints, but he couldn't entertain Gale forever.

"... it was--- Billy. You got it right," Steve hated to say that out loud, because even Joyce didn't know that. Or at least he hadn't confirmed it. Joyce was a smart lady, she could put two and two together. Steve was in short supply of friends his age, and even if he was a major fucking loser, it was more likely that he'd get an actual crush on somebody he was closer to. That left Robin and Billy, mostly, since he definitely didn't like Keith. 

Nothing against the guy. Really, anyway. Maybe it'd be even sadder if he liked Keith, since Keith hated his guts half of the time, and was also a major smartass that made Steve feel like he had the IQ of a gas station toilet whenever he was in a conversation with him. Keith might be a moron when it came to girls, but he was otherwise a smart guy. Meanwhile, his feelings for Robin, he'd come to realize in the last few months, had been a crush he'd fabricated out of desperation. He did love Robin, but even if she woke up straight as an arrow tomorrow, she'd still be more likely to put him into a headlock and ruin his hair than admire it. He respected that, honestly.

But Billy Hargrove. What a fucking guy to pick. 

"Did you always like Billy? I mean..." She gestured to his nose, which was a little crooked. If not from Billy Hargrove, then from the shitshow last Summer.

"... no. I don't know when I started to feel like this."

"And it's not just because he's hot? Like, even I can see that, Harrington." Part of her seemed to hold out hope for a reconsideration.

"No... I think I  _ do  _ really like him, Robin." He hung his head and felt Robin pat him on the back.

\---

It was another day later, with Keith moping around in the back room, when he blurted out, "we kissed on new years."

"What the fuck, why didn't you say that before?"

After lunch, she was glaring at him over the aisles as they organized tapes.

"So you didn't tell me you kissed him, what else did you not tell me, Steve?" It was more mischievous than anything, making him turn bright red.

"N--- nothing! We've done nothing else. Jeez, Robin."

"Just riling you up, Harrington."

\---

It was the next week. His legs were up against the counter, Robin on the floor next to him as they stared up at the ceiling of the video store.

"I, I still like girls, I think. Like... I don't want to date any, but I don't think I'm---"

"You can like both, dingus."

He'd never really thought of that before.

"Doesn't mean you have to like every girl or guy you meet," she added on, and somehow the wording clicked. It made more sense. He'd liked Rosie, but because of how he felt about Billy, he hadn’t wanted to date her. And hard as it was to admit, he'd always found at least some guys attractive. He'd thought it was a normal thing, but he'd also repressed the Hell out of any feelings he'd had. Having flings with girls was a lot easier than thinking about boys.

"You're really the brains of the operation, huh?" Despite everything, Steve managed to make light of the situation that still made his chest feel heavy. And in return, Robin gave him a supportive smile.

"You bet, Harrington."

\---

It was Saturday, one of both his and Robin's day off. He'd seen Billy once or twice that week, but each meeting had been so much shorter than they used to be. He'd also seen Rosie out and about, which was both awkward and a relief. At the very least, it was nice to spend time with Robin. They were both leaning against Steve's BMW, looking up at the stars. Steve enjoyed the silence as Robin edged closer to him, eventually reaching over to take one of his hands into hers. They'd started doing that, lately--- holding hands, sometimes. It was a comforting action, but one they had been hesitant to indulge in during the first few months of their friendship. Now, it felt as natural as giving each other hugs, or hanging off each other.

"I don't know much about him--- but you should probably tell him how you feel, Steve," her voice was quiet and supportive; they were mostly alone. Nobody else within earshot. Anybody who looked at them would probably assume they were a couple, anyway. 

"Y'know, he looks at you like how you look at him." Obviously, Robin was still a little unconvinced of Billy; she may not have known him until recently, but Steve had told her about some of the stuff that he'd done, just because he had a big mouth and he complained a lot. But he hadn't complained at all since Starcourt, because a part of him felt like it was just disrespectful. Nowadays, the guilt of how they'd treated Billy crept up his spine, making him shiver every now and then.

Steve wasn't willing to tell her every secret they shared, and she knew that. She respected it. Steve could see that she was giving him the benefit of the doubt, and he really hoped he was right. All he'd really told her was that he'd helped Billy when he'd needed that help, but not a whole lot more.

But, some things could be shared. The smaller things.

"He---  _ we _ , we have a good time, Robin. It just  _ feels  _ right. I don't think I've ever felt like this about someone before," he furrowed his brows, feeling Robin squeeze his hand.

"Not even with goody two shoes?"

"Not even with Nance," which surprised him to say, though it was definitely the truth. There was some kind of unspoken bond between him and Billy--- and it was an attraction he'd never really had before. He wanted to know more about Billy, and he wouldn't mind if it took their whole lives to share those details. They both had shared interests and just enjoyed each other's company, which felt like a huge leap in quality after his last relationship.

With a sigh, he rubbed his face, quietly adding, "I care about him, a lot. I don't know how to explain it," but the weeks they'd spent together--- the weeks in his house turned to months of them visiting each other, they'd meant a lot. It wasn't by obligation that Steve felt worried for Billy--- he wanted to do what was best for Max, as always, but he didn't look at Billy and see a burden. He saw someone he loved. Someone he wanted to voluntarily keep safe and happy.

"Then you've gotta tell him, Steve. If he tries any shit, I'll beat 'im up for you," and though it sounded like a joke, he knew Robin was serious. She'd protect him no matter what, and if he needed someone, she was there for him. After a small pause, she added, very sincerely, "I get why you didn't tell me at first. It's scary."

He felt glad to have a friend as good as her.

"Thanks. I--- I'll try, okay?"

"It's not always easy," her words sounded remarkably like Joyce's, "but sometimes it's worth it." He knew she was thinking of Laurie. He knew how much she adored her girlfriend, and how much Laurie adored her back. And just like with him and Billy, their relationship was private; he didn't know every detail about them, but he was pretty sure they were as happy as possible. It was something he desperately wanted for himself, even if he was afraid of failure.

Billy had asked him a question nearly two weeks ago, now.  _ Why do you care?  _ And he hadn't answered. He had to suck it up, or else he'd lose Billy, and he couldn't bear the idea of that. He had to have a spine, he couldn't let Billy slip through his fingers like Nancy had. Their already small meetings were becoming shorter and shorter, and Steve knew he didn’t have much time left, not when he was against whatever ticking time bomb was in Billy Hargrove’s life.

  
There was something about Billy that felt like home. And he wanted nothing more than to bask in that feeling.

\---

The extent of his interactions with Billy had been brief; Dustin's mother was out of town, so Steve had picked Dustin up from school and had to take him home for the weekend. He saw Billy, for a moment or two, when he'd rolled up to the school, and also later on when he picked Max up from the arcade.

He'd seemed stoic, but Steve felt he knew better. He saw how Billy didn't look people in the eye, as if his nerves ruled over him. Often times in the past, they had, but these nerves made Billy quiet instead of loud, and it made Steve nervous in turn.

After Dustin was dropped off back at his own house on Sunday, Steve decided to take some time out for himself. He knew he needed to talk to someone, and although Robin had helped him, he needed someone else, too.

It was easiest to confide in Joyce. It had been difficult at first, but he remembered rumors he'd heard. The things his parents had said about Lonnie Byers, her ex-husband. He didn't want to bring up bad memories to Joyce, but he also knew she'd understand his current problems the most. It was moderately embarrassing to admit who he liked, but Joyce was unsurprised.

"Just be careful, okay?" she sighed, "I never liked that man--- his father," she referred to Neil, "he always tried to be polite when we saw each other, but there was something off about him," and though it shouldn't shock him, it was still sometimes weird to hear Joyce say things like,  _ he's a piece of shit _ . Though, Steve wholeheartedly agreed.

"Please take care of yourself, Steve--- keep yourself safe. You can't just worry about Billy." He knew she was likely worried for his safety, that Billy might hurt him like he had before, but somehow, Steve couldn't picture that happening again. If Billy had wanted to hurt him again, he would've done it already.

So he bit the bullet and radioed over to Max, asking her to relay a message to Billy. He didn't like calling their house anymore, because he had a paranoid sensation that Neil might cause trouble over it. Who knew if he was listening in or not? He settled for asking Billy to call him whenever he had the chance.

But he was more than a little bit shocked when Billy showed up at his house---  _ on the same day as when he'd contacted Max _ . He recognized the noise of the Camaro in his driveway and he panicked. He ran upstairs, nearly tripping the whole way up, and he burst into his room to rip down the pictures he'd put at his bedside. He shoved them into his drawer just as he heard the front door open.

"Hey, Harrington," Billy said, watching as Steve came down the stairs. Steve was pretty damn sure he'd act like nothing had happened between them, until he saw Billy pause.

"Sorry for being a dick. I--- I treated you like shit, before."

"Hey, it's okay," Steve shrugged, just happy that Billy had even come over. Even if it'd given him a bit of a heart attack, the familiarity of it all made his heart soar.

  
"I don't think it's okay, but I  _ am  _ sorry." Billy flashed him a genuinely sad look, but the moment was ruined when he pushed past Steve, making his way upstairs. Steve spotted a few cassette tapes in Billy's hands, which meant he was probably returning the ones he'd borrowed. Steve felt a little paranoid over that; wondered if it was some kind of message he was supposed to read into. In the past, he couldn't pay Billy to bring more than one back at a time.

They spoke for a while, idly chattering about the last few weeks. Billy was obviously tired, but Steve didn't see any bruises, and he seemed like he was healthier than when he'd last seen him. He couldn't really complain. 

Evidently, he shouldn't have worried about Billy seeing the pictures at his bedside or in his drawer, because Billy saw an entirely different picture that he'd shoved under all of his cassettes, one of him in his old Scoops Ahoy outfit.

"Jesus, Harrington. You looked like an idiot." He was all teeth as he said that, grinning, taunting Steve by holding it over his head. Billy was about the same height as him, so it wasn't hard to grab it--- Steve just had to bump into him and lean against Billy to do it, catching the smug look he gave. His mom had convinced him to get a photo in the uniform so she could frame it--- the instant she'd left the house, he'd taken it out of the frame and tucked it away.

"Shut up, Hargrove." He felt a pang of sadness when Billy didn't pull any other cassettes out. All he did was return the old ones, plucking out the few that he'd left behind as temporary replacements. After Billy snatched the picture back from him, it was the only thing that remained in his hands. Steve wasn't in the mood for a fight so he huffed, rolling his eyes.

A few seconds later, Billy looked up at him with a sly smile and said, "you looked cute." The words made his heart flutter. It reminded him of the last few weeks--- about everything he'd been thinking of. 

Love had once been a corpse he'd carried on his back, a burden if nothing else. He was pretty sure that Nancy had never loved him, but he'd loved her. A lot, too. He'd thought that what they felt was mutual, shared and growing. He had been so fucking wrong.

And here he was, again. Foolish. Holding out hope when he knew he didn't have a chance. And the worst part was that he wasn't even sure if he'd mind it. So long as he could stay near Billy, he'd just be so  _ happy _ .

When he looked up at Billy and saw how he smiled softly at the stupid picture, he couldn't help himself. He blurted it out.

\---

"I like you." It felt absolutely insane, how simple that could sound, and yet how much it meant. Steve said it like he was reciting a prayer, and Billy was the only god left to hear it. Billy could only barely repress the shocked look he wanted to give Steve. He didn't know what to do, so he settled for a sarcastic, "no shit?"

"I'm not kidding, Billy." He hadn't thought of Harrington as the type to make that kind of a joke. But he'd hoped that maybe Steve hadn't meant it in  _ that  _ way. He struggled as he bit back every shitty thing he wanted to say. Every accusation. Every slur that had been planted on his tongue since he was a kid. He looked at Steve and saw the face of every person who'd died only a few months ago. It felt like a lifetime ago that they'd been alive, but the weight of their demise was still ever-present on his shoulders, slowly killing him.

He held his breath, and then said something.

"Didn't take you for the kind to like bad boys, Harrington."

"You're not bad."

"I'm a fucking guy, though," he said it with too much venom, and Steve flinched. Billy felt like shit. His mouth was dry and his throat made it hard to get words out. He felt torn, between the facade of being  _ heartless  _ and the reality of  **hurting** . 

"--- fuck. I'm sorry," he said it with feeling, like he hadn't before. He paused, realizing how much he'd wanted to say that. Not just for what he'd done in that moment or a few weeks ago, but for a lot of shit. "... I'm sorry," he said it again, like it'd put a bandaid over all the shit that he'd done. He could have a thousand apologies spill out of his mouth, for a thousand different reasons, but it didn’t feel like it’d fix any of this. All he wanted was to be near Steve, but it wasn't something he was allowed to have. It was something he had to actively deny himself. But in the process, it only hurt Steve, which made him regret having ever let himself get this close.

"It's okay." Steve smiled, sadly. Sweetly. Like always. "You don't have to---" His head tilted down as he barely got out, "you don't have to humor me, Billy. I just... I had to tell you, y'know? You... you asked me, why I cared. I... I didn't know how to tell you this before."

Billy saw tears at the corners of Steve's eyes. He remembered when they were full of life, instead of tears. He remembered when they'd laughed like nothing was wrong. He remembered when he'd kissed Steve Harrington without a care in the world. And right now, those memories hurt almost as much as having the monster skewer him. He should've never let it get this far, but he'd let it. It wasn't the first time someone had admitted having feelings for him, but he'd never cared before.  _ He'd never looked back at the person and felt the same way, and then some. _

"It's--- I know. It's stupid, right? You can say it. Typical Harrington. Can't find any girls, so maybe a guy would like me better. A  _ riot _ ." Steve barely seemed to be holding himself together as he spoke and Billy hated to hear him say that. By the time Steve had finished speaking, Billy could see that he was crying--- he could also hear the heartbreaking sniffling he was doing. Billy had never seen Steve cry before, he realized. He was lying, too. Rosie had wanted him. Other girls had flirted with him as well, when Billy was around him, at that. But the damn guy had his eyes stuck on Billy like he was the second coming of Christ.

"Listen, it's not a big deal," Steve was trying to convince himself of that, and Billy, too. 

The next words came out the quietest;

"Please don't hate me?" Steve looked at him, wiping at his eyes in some attempt at hiding the truth. The fact that Billy had caused this level of pain was mind-boggling. For all the shit he'd thought about the Wheeler girl, he had to be ten times worse.

" ** _Fuck_ ** ," was the only thing that Billy choked out. Steve winced at the word, like it burned him, and he turned away, the saddest smile on Earth having crept onto his lips. 

\---

That had been pretty fucking lame. But then again, wasn't lame just what described him? Steve Harrington was practically a joke to everyone. Even to himself, he grimly realized, as he winced away from Billy's stare.

"It's kind of funny." He was glad he hadn't mentioned anything about love. About how he was almost certain he loved Billy Hargrove. Unfortunately, his self-deprecating nature couldn't save him from how shitty he felt.

"No, it's not." 

"... guess it's sad, then," Steve finally broke down in full, giving in to his misery. He knew that Billy wouldn't give a shit, or at least he thought he knew that, until he felt one of Billy's hands on his arm, the other one reaching out to turn his head and cup his cheek. It felt like he'd been electrocuted, but in the best way possible.

"Jesus, Steve... You really fuckin' mean it, don't you?"

"Yeah."

He saw a level of hesitance in Billy's actions. He wasn't avoiding Steve any longer, he just stared into his eyes, but there was still something  _ distant  _ about him. Steve wasn't always the best at reading the mood, but if he'd felt a bit more confident, he may've tried to go in for a kiss. But whatever that mood had been, it was shattered when the phone rang.

Billy tensed and backed away from him, as if he knew exactly who was on the phone. Even if it wasn't who he thought, Steve was pretty sure that whoever it was had just ruined any chance Steve had at getting Billy to look at him again.

Wordlessly, he went to the phone, picking it up. It was Max, and she sounded stressed. Billy obviously had expected this, because he took the phone when he recognized her small voice.

\---

"Billy--- he's--- he's in a  _ really  _ bad mood," he knew it, too. He knew he shouldn't have left. And yet he had.

"Yeah. I'll be there soon, Max," it felt weird to be so formal with her, but he didn't want to joke around. He felt paranoid, on edge. Neil's temper had been very bad the last few weeks and some part of Billy feared for both Susan and Max. It wasn't the first time he'd been worried for them, but another part of him thought that it might be the last.

And that was why, when he looked to his side and saw Steve, he knew what his answer was.

" ** _I can't_ ** ," was all he said. Nothing else, just that. His eyes echoed the feeling in his heart; he was  _ sad _ .

Steve didn't seem shocked, but he looked terribly sad as well. Billy felt like a fucking asshole, looking Steve Harrington in the eye as he refused to even say that he also  _ liked  _ him. But he couldn't give in to his desires, because he had other people to worry about. It didn't matter if he liked Steve, or loved him for that matter. It wasn't a luxury he could afford. 

"You don't have to go," Steve said it like it was a promise, like it was a fact. But it wasn't, no matter how much he wished it was. He didn't know what Billy knew. 

"I do," he murmured, looking away. Steve didn't argue with him, instead he just quietly said;

"If you need me, you have me."

\---

It was less than ten minutes later that Steve got another call, and he answered it.

"Steve? Steve is Billy still there? Tell him not to come back!" She sounded frantic; Steve could hear what sounded like cars driving by. She must be calling from a payphone. "Me and my mom are going to stay somewhere else. Billy should just stay with you," she obviously didn't have time to explain, but Steve wasn't dumb. He could figure out what was going on. Obviously something to do with Neil.

He felt his stomach sink as he looked to his front door. Billy had left almost immediately after getting the call. Even if Steve sped to the Hargrove house, he wouldn't make it there before Billy, and he wouldn't catch up.

"He--- he already left, Max," he said it quietly, nervously.

"Please Steve, can you go get him?" It was a plea that didn't have long to be answered to.

"Yeah. I'm going. Stay safe, okay, Max?" She had his phone number memorized, so he trusted that she'd call him at some point with some kind of update. For now, he didn't have time to even consider waiting around for her to answer. Instead, he hung up and was out the door before he'd bothered to grab a coat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is entirely unrelated to this chapter but the discography of the cars is pretty much all harringrove songs especially if they're from door to door. do with that information as you will. i have had strap me in on repeat for four days please send help


	10. Side B, Rabbit In The Headlights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohhh we're halfway there  
WHOAAAA LIVIN ON A PRAYER
> 
> yeah i had to say that but anyway major warning for topics of homophobia/abuse/etc in the next few chapters, i know it's in the tags but this is a bit more intense than the last time/s it was relevant. also yes i will explain the absence of max/her mom in the future, and yes they're coming back

Billy had had his eyes on men from a young age. The accusations of him being a  _ faggot  _ weren't far off, which was why it always cut so deep. Neil could be ignorant, and maybe deep down he hoped his son could be  _ better _ , but Billy didn't know if Neil knew how far gone he was. However, he was pretty  ** _damn_ ** sure that Neil would treat even fucking Arnold Schwarzenegger like a faggot if he had him as a son. It was just something to hurt him with, it didn't matter if he dated girls or acted tough. Nothing was ever enough. And nothing would erase the reason for  _ why  _ they had moved.

Honestly, girls weren't bad, it was just that it took so much effort to keep his eyes off of the guys he saw. So putting on the act of a ladies man was easiest; people still doubted his sexuality, but at least he had a shield, some kind of defense.

But Harrington was what made it fucking hard. Even before he'd cared about the guy, he'd been at the forefront of his mind, plaguing his thoughts.

A few years ago, Billy had rolled his eyes at the thought of love. Sure, guys were hot--- the girls he had flings with were fine, but none of them made him feel shit. Nothing beyond him thinking with his dick. That was why thinking with anything but his dick was a shock. Hell, it'd have been easy if he just wanted to fuck Steve Harrington. If he thought of him like he had everyone else.

But he didn't. And in equal parts it confused and infuriated him. It made him distracted his whole drive home, unable to focus on his music. He angrily turned his radio off after the third song fell on deaf ears. The dreary weather that had been forecasted only started to make things worse; the clouds in the sky, blocking the moon from view, started to throw down rain, thunder cracking in the distance. The weather matched his mood, finally. 

The ride felt like it lasted for an eternity. And when he got back home, it was like the universe had decided to spit in his face; not only did he run directly into his dad as soon as he got inside, but he also still looked majorly pissed. Half of the time, Neil's temper came and went. If he was lucky, Billy would come home and he'd be asleep or preoccupied, unconcerned with whatever he'd been mad about. But Billy wasn't so lucky, right now.

"The fuck is this?" Neil asked that as he held up the ticket of photos he'd taken with Steve. Like a fucking idiot, he'd gotten them out of his jar of money he had shoved under his bed. He'd put it in his jacket the other day, he realized. He'd been sentimental, not ready to admit that he'd been missing Steve, even though he definitely had been. Looking closer at them, he finally saw just how enamoured he looked in them. He knew he'd kept them for a reason and given Steve the photo strips with other more playful and mischievous expressions, and now he remembered why. 

No matter what he did, his mind looped back to Steve. He always missed Steve the instant he left him, sad as that was. And that stupidity had let him keep the pictures in his jacket pocket. 

Susan must've decided to clean it.

He curled his fingers into fists.

"Just pictures. You ever seen those before?" He hadn't dared to be that disrespectful in the last few months, but now he stared the man in the eyes. He was tired of feeling like a prisoner, but he knew it didn't matter. Neil was giving him a look, the look that said that Billy Hargrove didn't have friends.  _ Billy Hargrove was a faggot _ . All Billy Hargrove was good for was driving his step-sister around and acting like the family's damn  _ dog _ .

"Don't you fucking dare talk to me like that," Neil warned, though it was hardly a warning. He ripped the line of photos in half and dropped them into the kitchen trash, not even hesitating to do so.

Billy felt fucking irate, his blood boiling as he watched what his father did. He'd barely spent any time with Steve lately. He'd helped Max with her homework. He'd helped Susan cook and clean. He'd done  _ nothing  _ but be useful for this family.  ** _Why wasn't it enough?_ **

"What the fuck? I'm not allowed to have friends? Is that too fuckin' faggoty?"

"What was that?" Neil's eyes turned dark but Billy stood his ground. He was just as furious as Neil was, but for dramatically different reasons. "You think I'm deaf and dumb? All you do is spend your time with that--- that  _ boy _ ." 

"Sorry if it's better than being here," Billy glared, practically snarling. He knew it was dangerous to get close to Steve, and in retrospect he wouldn't have done it, if he'd been in his right mind. But accidents happened. And accidents weren't welcome in the Hargrove household. There was a heated, explosive pause. Neil then gestured towards Billy's hand, where his keys were currently held. He wanted them back.

"Go to your room."

"I ain't a damn kid."

"Give me your keys."

"No.  _ I'm not a damn kid _ ."  _ He was nineteen _ .  **He was nineteen** .  ** _He was nineteen_ ** . He was an adult, he'd paid for his fucking car years ago. He wasn't a kid. He wasn't having his surfboard taken away. That was his car.  ** _His_ ** . 

He clutched the keys so tightly that they bruised his fingers, staring Neil right in the eye before it all went to shit. Susan was nowhere to be seen and he couldn't hear Max listening to music, which meant they must be out of the house. Whatever Neil had done, it left a beer bottle broken on the floor, the calendar ripped off of the wall, and mail scattered everywhere. Everything wasn't adding up in his favor. Billy didn't even consider the consequences of saying;

"I'm not your fucking kid, Neil," Billy spat the words out, "you aren't a fucking  _ dad _ . You're not even a  _ husband _ ."

** _..._ **

That was probably the worst decision he'd made, and he'd made a lot of bad decisions.

\---

He'd found a note in one of his jackets. Susan telling him to get out of there as soon as possible. But Neil wasn't so forgiving or lenient. He'd have no chance of making it to whatever stupid address Susan had jotted down. His funeral had been planned the moment she left.

An hour later, Neil was passed out. Billy knew better than to fuck around in the house ( _ he'd memorized every creaky floorboard, and he knew he wasn't making it out of the place without waking Neil _ ), so he sat on his bed, shivering as he tried to will his aching body to let him lay down. But before he could get very far in his internal squabbling, none other than Steve Harrington seemed to be trying to crawl in his window. Billy used every ounce of strength left to push his fat fucking head back out.

"Get the fuck out!" He hissed, doing his best to close the window again. It had shit for locks, but even if Steve had kept coming in, Billy doubted he'd have made it. It was a small window and Steve wasn't a small guy.

"Max said---" 

"Max is a bitch. Get away from my fucking window," he didn't think he Steve heard the creak. The creak that told him that Neil was awake, and in the hallway. If he'd had any thoughts about opening that window or getting out of it, they were gone. He would  _ not _ risk Neil seeing the source of his ire.

It hurt to push Steve away, but once he'd shut the window and turned his back, Steve eventually left. Billy felt grateful that his room had dim lighting, because at least Steve hadn't seen his red eyes, or the blossoming bruises on his cheeks and arms. At least Steve might be able to sleep tonight.

\---

By the time he'd gotten to the Hargrove house, it'd been a half hour since Max had called; nearly all the lights had been off and if anyone was home, they didn't answer. Steve had gone around to the side of the house where Billy's room was, but he wasn't welcomed warmly.

All he wanted was for Billy to come with him--- to leave this shit behind. But he couldn't force him to do that. So he had to leave, even if it made him feel like he'd made a terrible decision in doing so.

Steve lay awake that night, unable to do anything but think of Billy. He wanted nothing more than to break into that house and get him out--- there were two problems, though. Neil, obviously, but then Billy himself.

He knew that Billy didn't like to be dependent on people. He was like a cornered animal, unable to fend for himself, so he'd just be self destructive and do what he could to keep his control. Steve understood it, but it still broke his heart. Steve wasn't selfish anymore, he didn't feel badly for himself, he only felt for Billy.

He had to hope that maybe Billy would come to him again. But the hope for that happening dwindled over the coming days.

"We haven't heard anything from Max. Sorry, Steve. She hasn't even called Lucas!" Dustin sounded worried, his eyebrows furrowed as he crossed his arms. Dustin was a smart kid, and Steve trusted that he'd done everything he could in this situation. And honestly, that was more than any teenager should be doing.

"Is it--- like, is Billy okay?" Steve suppressed the urge to say that he didn't know, because that would do little to comfort anyone right now, and the world didn't need an unhinged Dustin Henderson on its hands.

"It's okay. Just tell me if anyone calls, okay?" Steve managed a convincing smile--- he was starting to become worried at just how good he was getting at lying--- and with all his spare energy, he tried to keep himself together.

"If I see him around, I'll say hi. I could lend him my radio and steal Mike's!" The offer warmed Steve's heart. The kids never made those kinds of decisions lightly. The fact that Dustin thought Billy meant enough to share a radio--- let alone his own...

"Thanks, dude," he breathed a sigh of relief and ruffled a hand through Dustin's curls after he snatched his hat off. The kid was growing like a weed, though not nearly as quickly as Mike. Steve was beginning to wonder if Dustin would be as tall as him, someday--- and how soon that day may be.

"No problem! Gimme my hat back!" Dustin huffed, grabbing it back and putting it on his head, hands on his hips as he gave Steve a  _ look _ .

"You're coming to dinner this weekend, right? Mom's making some new pasta thing. I'm not eating it alone!" She was a good cook, and god bless her, but sometimes she made really weird food. But honestly, she could put coal on a plate and Steve would still be grateful. In the last year, she'd acted like his mother--- she'd pack lunches for him like she did for the rest of the kids, and between her and Joyce, it all made him feel like he was a part of a family he didn't deserve.

"Yeah, wouldn't miss it for the world," he said it sarcastically, even though he meant it wholeheartedly. "Seeya then, Henderson," Steve saluted and winked, managing to keep from falling apart until he got into his car. Once Dustin was back inside his house, he pressed his head against his steering wheel, closed his eyes tightly, and tried not to cry.

\---

The week dragged on, feeling longer than the months in the hospital had. He'd heard the phone ring a few times, but Neil had taken to picking it up off the hook before slamming it back down. It didn't really matter, anyway. Billy didn't think Steve or anyone else he gave a shit about would be dumb enough to call.

Months ago, Neil had installed a lock on his door. If he really tried, he could get out of the window, but what would he do after that? Not much. He didn't have any keys, and Neil had apparently, and quite recently, found and taken his stash of cash. Billy didn't know if it would've been better or worse if he'd found the pictures of Steve in there instead of his jacket.

Those pictures haunted him. He tried to get them out of the trash later on, but there was no use. They were torn and warped by other trash that had been thrown in on top. Billy would never admit to anyone, but he cried out of pure frustration.

The rainy season persisted. Made things even more fucking miserable. Billy had apologized not even a week ago for what he'd done and he was doing it again. It made him feel guilty. But this go around, he had few other options; Neil never seemed to leave the house, and the one time he had in the last few days, Billy had woken up to his door locked. He couldn't reach out to Steve, and there were a lot of reasons why.

The hours in the house, with no Max or Susan to lessen the loneliness and fear, only made things more unbearable. He didn't have anything or anyone to rely on. It felt like the days when he'd been just a kid, before Neil had married Susan, but after he'd chased his mother off. Just like back then, every day, Neil only got worse. Madder,  _ louder _ , and more deaf to anything he didn't want to hear.

He could've sworn he'd heard Neil talking about selling the Camaro. It was the one time he'd been on the phone in days and Billy had been eager to press his ear to his door, desperate to hear whatever Neil was saying. Hearing the possibility of that happening felt like the last straw.

One night, when Neil had finally passed out after getting drunk as fuck, Billy managed to fish his keys from Neil's pocket. He knew if he'd have gotten caught that he would've paid a hefty price, and honestly, he wouldn't have cared.

He couldn't stay there. Not anymore. He was half fucking insane, delirious from a lack of sleep as well as food at this point, but he knew he couldn't stay. He didn't want to be there, and he never wanted to come back. It was with shaking hands, as he exited his house, that he realized he had made a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope y'all are enjoying this. i do find a lot of myself in billy so i use a lot of things i experienced for reference. when you've been abused for most of your life, psychologically you are massively fucked up. this fic has been somewhat therapeutic for me


	11. Side B, Wild Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for intense topics of suicide/trauma

"Steve, I have a bad feeling," was not the most comforting thing to hear, when he answered his phone at the ripe hour of ten pm. It was more than a little unnerving to have Jane call at this hour, but after the last few months, it was far from the weirdest or most ominous thing to happen. It still made him feel uneasy, though; you just didn't get  _ used  _ to this shit, really. No amount of preparation could cure the nagging sense that happened whenever Jane had a  _ feeling. _

Jane didn't leave much room for questions or answers before she asked, "do you know where Billy is?" And upon hearing that, Steve was ready--- for another wild goose chase. Another romp in the fucking wilderness, to drag Billy Hargrove out of an abandoned barn or some shit. But right now, it felt different--- the tension had been rising and he felt out of his depth, like things weren't the same as before. Whatever Hell had fallen upon Hawkins, Indiana was now his problem to deal with. 

"No--- I haven't seen him all week," Steve felt embarrassed to admit that, like he could've done better. Maybe he could've, but he didn't know. Moments of silence followed his response and his heart nearly stopped when he heard Jane finally speak up again;

"Steve--- Steve, he's--- he's..." Her voice was shaking as she spoke, and Steve wished more than anything that he could just get into his car and get going--- but he was relying on Jane's information. So he was tethered to the phone, for better or for worse.

"He's... I think... I think he's near some of the back roads... he's--- he's not in his car anymore. He's hurting..." That sounded like, at best, a fucking car crash, which in this suddenly absymal weather, he wouldn't doubt. It made his blood run cold as he gritted his teeth.

"I'm sorry--- Steve, please, you're going to find him?"

"Yes--- I am, El. I'm sorry," he said his own apology, though he wasn't sure of every reason for it. It just felt right. "Just--- take it easy, okay? I'll call you as soon as I can," it was a promise he didn't know the ending to. Every second that ticked by made him feel worse. Like this wasn't going to be like the other times. Like he wouldn't find Billy as he had before.

The thought scared the shit out of him. But he knew he had to stay strong.  _ Someone  _ had to. And unfortunately, he was that someone.

\---

If not for the fact that he saw Billy's car crashed at the side of the road, he doubted anybody would've found him nearby, face-down, passed out. Steve had almost broken his damn ankle in a mad dash to pull him back towards the road. Billy would never know of just how panicked Steve had been, or how he scrambled through the mud, dragging Billy's cold, unmoving body through the rain.

He was lucky the radio worked all the way out there. He was even luckier that he could get words out, when he was stuttering and shaking so hard he couldn't even see straight. The kids called for an ambulance and Steve struggled to drag Billy closer to the road, even though he constantly lost traction as his feet sank into the mud. Billy wasn't dead, but he wasn't in good shape, either. Steve had to rip part of his shirt off and wrap it around Billy's head, in an effort to stop the bleeding that never seemed to end.

Steve wasn't allowed in the ambulance. Instead, he checked on the Camaro. The interior was soaked in rainwater and blood. It was busted, for now, tires stuck deep in the mud, and the passenger side door dented from hitting a tree. It was a resilient fucker, so Steve held out hope. He got the keys out of it, and was nearly out of the car before he spotted a letter on the floor of the passenger side of the car. Near it, he saw a bottle of pills. He absentmindedly grabbed both before he thought much on it. The letter was unsealed. With the light of a car passing by, Steve caught a glimpse at what was written on the envelope; it was Max's full name and the Hargrove's address. He felt a sense of dread settle in his stomach as his heart skipped a beat. He peeked inside and saw three separate pieces of paper; one with 'Max', one with 'Jane', and a last one with 'Steve'.

He couldn't read them, not here, not while he was soaking wet, and definitely not while Billy Hargrove was being brought to the emergency room. He had to get to the hospital. So he forced himself to think straight and he jogged back to his car, got in, and floored it to Hawkins Memorial Hospital.

\---

Two hours later, he was still in the hospital, shaking hands dialing Joyce's number. After the hospital staff gave him a few strange looks, he had opted to go back home and quickly change, before rushing back. They wouldn't let him see Billy, and by the time he came back, they seemed more distant than when he'd first been there. He hadn't opened the letter yet, but he had shoved it into his jacket and kept it hidden.

"He's been hurting, Steve," Jane's panicked voice crackled over the phone; Steve could hear Joyce muttering in the background, and what he thought might be Will, as well. "his--- his dad. He's hurt him a lot," Jane said that before he could respond, and Steve could hear that she was crying. "B--- Billy didn't want me to tell any of you. Max didn't either. But... Billy, he---  _ he was trying _ \---"

Steve didn't hear the rest. He felt the blood roaring in his ears. Finally, the gravity of all of Billy's self-destructive actions clicked into place, every one of them a cry for help. Billy Hargrove hadn't been being stupid all these months, and he couldn't help but think of the letter in his pocket, of how it felt like it was burning a hole into the fabric. He thought of the pill bottle, and how Billy had never been particularly eager to be on time with his medicine. Suddenly, everything became terribly clear. Billy had been trying to kill himself, to escape the shitshow that was going on in his house, in his life.  _ Billy Hargrove had been trying to kill himself tonight _ . 

Steve sank to the cold floor of the hospital, the phone still in his hands. There were no monsters to beat up. No alien-like tunnels to set fire to. This wasn't something he could fix by being lucky or hoping for the best. And somehow, everything was more terrifying when you could explain and understand it perfectly. Monsters had been easier than this.

"I'm scared, Steve." It was an admittance that she did not make lightly, and Steve knew that. The words made him shiver. In the background, Steve could hear rustling, and Joyce gently speaking to her daughter.

He didn't know what to say, it felt like the floor was about to fall out from under him. Like he was going to be swept away, nothing more than a ghost of who he'd been. But even that fading ghost of The Babysitter couldn't let one of his kids feel hopeless.

"Don't be. It's going to be okay."

\---

It felt like a fucking lie. Nothing was okay. Steve wasn't allowed into the hospital room, but Neil was. He'd apparently missed Neil's arrival, but was assured that a  _ family member _ was with Billy, and that he needed time to recover in solitude.

Bullshit. It wasn't like Billy needed that dick in there with him. But no one listened when Steve tried to tell them that, and he knew that if he said too much, he'd be gambling with Billy's safety. Neil was respected enough among these people, so none of them would take the word of a kid, who looked strung out as shit, as anything other than a joke.

He was admittedly in bad shape. Robin had to drag him from the hospital, ' _ they're not going to let him die, Steve. You've got to get some rest _ _'_, she'd said.

He hadn't wanted to go, but he knew he had to.

\---

Robin had left a few minutes ago, after a long debate about whether or not she should stay. Steve had barely won the argument of her leaving and going home--- because as much as he didn't want to be alone, he also couldn't let Robin see how fucked up he was feeling. He didn't need to worry her.

So there he was, sat on his bed, his still-wet jacket in hand. Steve shook slightly, pulling the letter from the pocket of his jacket. Three torn pieces of paper were inside, folded up, a name on each of them. It felt like a breach of privacy, but Steve pushed his morals down; Max wasn't here, neither was Jane. So he opened each piece up.

He started with Max's.

' _ I'm sorry. I can't do shit about any of this. I don't know where I'll end up, but I hope whoever finds me sends this to you. Sell my stuff and do what's best for you _ ,' there were a few scratched out words, maybe the beginnings of some  _ I love you's _ , ' _ it's not your problem. This wasn't your fault. Keep yourself safe and don't take shit from anyone. You're a strong girl, Max, I believe you'll have it better than I did. Don't go without a fight. _ '

Jane's came next.

' _ Thanks for talking to me. It meant a lot. I'm sorry that it didn't mean enough. I hope Will forgives me, for not getting to talk to him more. I wanted to, and I wanted to talk to you more, too. Tell him he's a good kid for me. He better be a famous artist or whatever, someday. And you better kick ass.' _

Steve's was the last one. It was on a larger piece of paper, compared to the others.

' _ I know I piss you off, I know you're tired of me. I'm sorry for it _ ,' there were a few warped circles on the paper, like tears had fallen onto them. Some of the ink bled. ' _ I'm sorry for the night at the Byers house. I can't take it back but I'm still sorry. I'm sorry for punching your pretty face in. I'm sorry for all of that shit. I don't know why you took care of me after all I've done. You were the first person to look at me like I fucking existed, like I was worth something _ .'

Despite how it felt somewhat stilted, he was an eloquent writer, which reminded Steve of how Billy had, surprisingly, been a good student in high school. He screamed the attributes of a typical slacker, but as far as Steve knew, he'd been a straight-a student. He wondered if that was because of Neil's influence.

' _ The first time you found me, at the barn, was supposed to be the last _ ,' even without any further information, Steve could feel the shame radiating from that sentence. Billy had never wanted to be a burden. He'd wanted to be  _ gone _ . The ink kept bleeding, running. More and more. Steve realized it was because of his own tears that were falling, hitting the notebook paper and blurring the words he'd just read. 

' _ I'm tired, and I'm so fucking sorry. Thank you for everything, Steve.' _

\---

No one let him see Billy during his stay at the hospital. And what could he say to convince them of his need to see him, anyway? He couldn't do shit. He couldn't send flowers or get well cards, not in the way he wanted to. Everyone already stared at him like he had two heads whenever he walked in, begging to see Billy.

Without Max or her mother, there was no hope of him getting in. He'd go home late at night, unable to sleep, unable to eat. He couldn't even go into work anymore. He knew he'd probably lose his job for it, but he couldn't tear himself away from his house. What if someone called? And when he wasn't there, he was driving past Billy's house or the hospital.

It was on the fourth day of Billy's hospital stay that Keith came over. He'd brought a casserole--- something he'd made himself--- and he stayed with Steve for part of that night. It was weird, but to be honest, Steve hadn't eaten anything warm in days. It tasted questionable, but the company and the fuel were welcomed by that point.

"You know, you're not so bad, Harrington," Keith said, "Robin... told me that somebody close to you isn't doing well. The job at the video store is still yours, whenever you can come back." It was an odd show of solidarity, and, embarrassing as it was, it made Steve cry out of pure relief.

"Sorry, man. I'm... not normally like this," he tried to reason with his emotions, but Keith only patted him on the back.

"It's okay. Stuff happens. You're gonna be okay. And on the bright side, you're not half as bad at your job as you used to be." Unfortunately, as much as that would've felt like a damn achievement on any other day, all Steve could think was,  _ what about Billy? Would he be okay? _

\---

It was over a week later when Billy wasn't at the hospital anymore. Calls to the Hargrove house had previously gone unanswered, but Steve rushed to the nearest payphone, praying that this time he'd get somebody on the other end.

He did. It was Billy. Billy was alive. Part of him had expected Billy to just show up in the obituaries with no other information.

But all he said was, " _ I'm busy _ ," before hanging up the phone.

Max still wasn't at school. Not even Lucas could get a hold of her, and the radio wasn't being responded to. Steve didn't even know where the fuck she was, because no one had seen her or Susan. Supposedly they were still on the same trip that they'd presumably started nearly two weeks ago. Steve had, perhaps foolishly, expected Max to call him at some point. But she hadn't. And now he was getting even more anxious. Jane couldn't give them any information that helped, and with her powers permanently on the fritz, he knew he couldn't rely on that. He also knew better than to try and go to the Hargrove house right now; he was using up the good will the universe had left for him as it was.

He'd cried openly all of that week. He woke up screaming more than once; he was mortified when it happened when Dustin stayed over. The kid had refused to let him stay alone over the weekend. Robin took off of work to be with him, too, but nothing really helped. 

There was little that he could do to comfort himself. He hated to be on the phone with the kids. He hated looking Dustin in the eyes. He couldn't even look at Robin. It felt like it was embarrassingly obvious, how much he loved Billy Hargrove, and how heartbroken he was. How much he regretted having not said something else before he left. Rosie even got to witness his misery, since she came over to check on him. She gave him a sad but knowing look, and it only made his heart break more.

He knew it was bad, when Tommy showed up unannounced with a pizza--- and Carol. Both were worried about Billy, and Steve didn't know whether to feel good or bad that they immediately thought to come to him. But given how he was living off of everyone else's charity, it was a nice visit, even if unexpected. In a whirlwind of negative and positive emotions, Steve even apologized to the both of them, though he didn't specify the  _ reason _ why he apologized. They could assume easily enough, that it was about him ditching them, and he didn't expect them to accept it. But he got a smile out of Carol, and a pat on the back, and that was more than he could ask for, when he felt this pathetic.

No matter how hard everyone tried to distract him, his thoughts always looped back to Billy. How many times had Billy come to school with bruises, only for people to assume it was because he'd gotten into fights? How many times had he covered for Neil?  _ How much more could Neil get away with? _

Truthfully, Steve wasn't doing too well. If he could worry himself to death, he was on the road to doing it. Robin tried to stay with him when she could, but it did little to help. She'd promised to come over that night, and she didn't even know about Billy being back at his house yet, but all Steve wanted to do was crawl under a rock and die.

At seven pm, he heard his doorbell ring. He looked like shit when he answered it.

"Hey Steve. Robin's feeling sick, but I wanted to come over and make sure you were okay," he was shocked to find Laurie on the other side of the door, looking chipper but worried. He simply stared, blinking tired eyes at her, before she pushed her way in.

"You don't have to do anything. Unless you want to. Anything you want to talk about?" She seemed perceptive enough; they hadn't spoken a lot on their own, but Steve knew that Laurie was good at picking up on how others were feeling.

"... he's back at home," he didn't know if Robin had told her the whole truth about Billy, but at this point, most people had their assumptions. "He... he answered the phone, but wouldn't talk to me," Steve's voice trembled as he said that. As much as he hated being touched right now, it was something of a comfort when Laurie looped an arm around him in a one-armed hug.

"He's awake, that's good. I'm sure you can talk to him soon, Steve." It felt like an empty promise, but at this point, an empty promise was better than nothing.

He didn't say anything, instead he let Laurie bring him to the living room. He sat on the couch as she puttered about in the kitchen; she emerged with some meal from his half-assed store of food, and though he didn't want to, he ate it. He fell asleep some time later, only waking up at some obscene hour, looking to his side and seeing that Laurie was curled up on the couch next to him.

He felt bad. He hated that everyone went out of their way for him, when he wasn't the one who should be needing help. But another part of him felt warmed by the love he was being shown. He didn't have Billy, but at least he had good friends.

  
****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter is huge so i'm sure i'll die editing it (':


	12. Side B, Sleepwalking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for not updating for so long, i truly had a very bad week and it was difficult to focus on anything, let alone this monster of a chapter. we're coming up on the last of my pre-written chapters and i hope i can finish this in a timely manner. this year has been hard for me but this fic has made me happy and feel creative, so i just hope i can do it justice and actually finish it. anyway:
> 
> warnings for heavy mentions of suicide/abuse/homophobia. enjoy flashback hell

This wasn't Steve's fault. In fact, after all the shit Billy had done, this may as well be his ending. He couldn't bear the thought of getting Steve hurt, so dying seemed, once again, so much easier. He'd no longer be a burden to any of them. So he didn't mention why he couldn't reciprocate Steve's feelings. Didn't say that his dad would rather see the both of them  _ dead  _ than happy. Steve didn't need to feel that shame, he didn't need to be up at night blaming himself for something that had become inevitable.

Grimly, Billy realized how much better things would've been if he'd offed himself before they'd even moved to Hawkins. Max could've had her little friends, Steve would've done more for her than he ever could. He wouldn't have a troop of kids who thought of him like he was the devil, and he wouldn't have fooled a guy who was way too good for him, into giving a shit about him.

But he'd been selfish, back then. He'd wanted to bring pain to others, to mirror his own. He'd never been brave enough to endure the pain--- not after his mother left. She had been his anchor, but she was long gone.

As he stared out his windshield, tears fell from his eyes just as the rain that splattered against the Camaro. In truth, he didn't even know if she was still alive. He felt like, maybe, if he were lucky, he'd have enough good in him to be able to see her again, if she was truly gone. Maybe he could go with her, to where she was. He'd live a thousand lifetimes and then some in Purgatory, if only to be with her.

She was the only one who knew his pain. She was the only one who could truly forgive him. And some part of him wanted to be able to forgive her, too--- he wanted to say it to her face. He wanted closure. And to him, that closure felt like it was contained in the bottle of pills on the passenger seat, calling out to him for him to end it all.

In truth, Billy had wanted to drive far away from Hawkins. He'd wanted to drive until the Camaro couldn't anymore, maybe stumble across a place where no one would ever find him, but tear-blind eyes and slick roads caused him to crash at the side of the road. He'd hit something, though he had no clue what--- maybe it'd been his imagination, and the tree he'd hit had been the only real thing. He couldn't be sure. He'd dragged himself from the car, feeling weak and lightheaded, before collapsing not far from the road. This wasn't the way he'd wanted to die, but he'd take anything, at this point.

He'd hoped, sincerely, that this would be his last struggle. As he felt the mud pooling around him, the rain soaking him through, and his head aching, all he could so was pray that he wouldn't wake up. But it took so long, him drifting in and out of consciousness, before he realized that he wasn't going to die alone.

He could distantly feel as Steve gently held his face in his hands. He could hear sirens coming, but he could only barely hear Steve's voice or see his face. He could hardly keep his eyes open. Everything felt terribly echo-y, like he was stuck in PE class in the gym and someone had decided to run a marching band through the place.

Maybe this was death, after all. Maybe death felt like going to high school with two hours of sleep under your belt, the world mocking you and your headache. Maybe death was being held by Steve Harrington, and feeling more alive than you had in ten years. He'd wanted to die alone with his thoughts, but instead he had Steve Harrington holding him, asking him to  _ stay _ .

He thought, distantly, of how he wished he'd written down the last thing on his mind;

_ you almost made me want to stay. _

\---

He woke up screaming, with Steve's name on his tongue, but it was only him and his father in the hospital room. Neil looked furious. Unlike before, after Starcourt, there was no Susan to keep him calm, or convince him to be  _ nice _ .  _ Not that Neil was ever fucking nice. _

It was an uncomfortable silence that was shared between them. Nurses came in to check on him, and then a few doctors. Asides from a few cracked ribs, he'd had a lot of bruising and a few deep cuts that had needed stitches. Apparently, he'd had a pretty bad head wound and lost a fair bit of blood. His left wrist had also been sprained, but all he could do was feel thankful that his legs weren't broken. Billy swore that despite it all, he was more resilient after Starcourt, which was both a blessing and a curse. Mostly a curse, presently. He was being monitored for the possibility of having a concussion, and apparently he was bordering on underfed. His arms hurt like a bitch and his head ached.

He felt sick as fuck. He hated being trapped in the white-walled room, surrounded by the stench of cleanliness. He preferred Susan's stupid candles to this shit. And it didn't help that Neil refused to leave, unless it was late into the night, so late that Billy was sure everyone else in their right mind had to be asleep.

He barely got any rest, himself. He couldn't sleep unless Neil was gone or he was drugged up too much to care. Neil only left for a solid four hours before reappearing, radiating a fury that Billy felt was liable to cause a damn fire.

The nurses visited him a few times, not to give him medicine, instead announcing when he had people who wanted to visit him. A few times it was people he didn't care about, but there were the times when they mentioned Steve Harrington.

"You want to see him?" Neil had asked, glaring at him.

"No." He said it as firmly as possible, though he felt like throwing up again. He wanted nothing more than to see Steve, to get the fuck out of here in that BMW. But he knew that was a pipedream. He'd wanted to die to keep Steve and the others safe, but now he was alive and forced to live with those consequences.

If he'd said yes, he wouldn't have thought it at all odd if Neil had voluntarily ended his life then and there. Even the entire hospital staff wouldn't have been able to stop his wrath. And as much as Billy wanted to be fucking dead, he didn't want to chance it with Steve being involved.

He just had to fucking live. But all that the time in the hospital did was remind him of months past, memories burning into his mind at every waking moment, hours spent staring at the blindingly white walls.

\---

He hadn't expected to wake up after the shitshow at Starcourt. He thought he'd said his goodbyes, but that wasn't the case. 

_ She was pretty. You were happy.  _ The words had echoed in his head as he came to, as if taunting him as he'd faded out on the floor of the mall, seeing a vision of his mother. When he opened his eyes again he only saw doctors, nurses, and Neil.

The first few days had been the worst. He couldn't even talk for over a week. Instead, he drowned in his thoughts, blocking out the ranting from his father and the concerned voice Susan used whenever she visited.

_ Die a hero or live long enough to become the villain _ . He could've had the best of both worlds, but here he was, alive for some godforsaken reason. And like every real part of his life, everything had to be kept a secret. Excuses were made. He'd saved the kids from the ' _ fire _ ' at Starcourt and nearly died, that was what everyone had been told, but visitors weren't a thing. Not public ones, anyway. He was caged into that hospital for three long fucking months, hidden away like Hawkins' most embarrassing bitch.

He guessed having some weird fucker possess a teen just wasn't what the locals ordered. He knew he had to keep quiet about it. He wondered if everyone else involved knew shit all about what'd happened. He was pretty damn sure that Susan and Neil didn't know much, because it was only when they were gone that the doctors really spoke to him.

He doubted that most of them were even fucking doctors. They probably just wanted to see what kind of fucked up shit had happened to him. He didn't hold that against them, exactly, but he wished he'd been given a little more consideration. He'd asked one of them if he was going to die, early on in his stay, and the man had given him a sad look. Like he knew what Billy had wanted the answer to be. All he said was ' _ no _ ', and then Billy never saw him again.

Somewhere along the way, his father had forcibly tried to get his hair cut, as if the lack of freedom and choice could be made any worse. It was humiliating to say the least. He'd woken up in the middle of it happening, listening deliriously as Neil tried to explain that it'd be better for him, and that it would've been a burden to keep his hair so long. The fact that Billy started screaming, suggested otherwise.

He'd cried for days after that. No one seemed to care. Against all odds, he recovered strangely well. 

\---

Life was Hell even without how Neil currently treated him. He tried to tell himself he wouldn't have killed himself before Starcourt, but he would've. He'd nearly drank himself to death in high school, what was the difference if he swallowed a bunch of pills and ended it? 

He had enough shitty thoughts creeping into his head. Clawing past any pleasant memories or any hopes of sleeping, haunting him with all the things he had done, and all the things he'd never get to do.

More than once, he'd thought back on the day where he'd nearly knocked Steve Harrington into the grave. He hadn't gone there with that intention, really--- not like he fucking knew Steve was there, but seeing him just made everything so much worse. Seeing that pretty boy made his blood boil in a way he didn't really understand, until Neil's words echoed in his head.

_ Like some faggot _ . It wasn't the first time he'd been called it, and it was definitely not the first time he'd heard it from his dad. He doubted it'd be the last, either, but something about it broke a dam in Billy, making him want to drive into a tree at full speed. 

He had been forced to settle for finding Max, because Max was all that mattered.

He wasn't beyond roughing a kid up, and he'd had about enough of the one that wouldn't leave Max alone. Steve decided that getting in the way was his purpose in life, and Billy redirected his anger right onto that big haired bitch. Max wasn't so keen on his tactics in bringing her home. Of all the things he expected to happen to him, getting stabbed by a sedative wasn't one of them. Max had threatened him and tossed a bucket of ice-cold water onto the fires of his rage.

He didn't feel bad, not laying on that floor right then. But he'd felt scared. Some part of him was actually worried for Max. What the fuck had she been doing there with all those guys?

He came to after promising to leave her alone, and he was still in the Byers house. He felt like shit and could barely move. He was not excited to find that his car was missing, either. His head had been swimming like he'd been thrown out of a plane and landed face first in this shithole. Honestly, he probably deserved it, so he didn't mention it. He opted for staying at Tommy's house and let the subject drop, even if Neil didn't let it go for months.

He'd paid for a lot of Max and Lucas' dates after that. It wasn't because of Neil, but because he, surprisingly, still felt shitty about how he'd treated the both of them. Lucas was a good kid, even if he didn't want to admit it. Max genuinely liked him and he wasn't going to take that from her. In the months after her Autumn Disappearance, Neil had only become more strict and unhappy. Billy had never done anything particularly  _ right  _ before, but all he could do was wrong now.

Even Max began to notice. And despite having only ever wanted to be noticed--- despite craving sympathy, he hated the looks she'd give him. He couldn't tell if he also hated her kindness, when Neil would punch or shove him too hard--- the way she'd sneak from the kitchen to get frozen vegetables, to his room to gently place it against whatever new bruises were blooming. It warmed his heart, but it made him feel bitter, somehow.

One of his few escapes was  _ Tommy Hagan _ , an obnoxious boy who would do anything he said. Though he dated Carol for years, Billy had always picked up on him being  _ different _ . But he wasn't different enough for Neil to notice, and at first, Neil liked that they were friends. He wanted Billy to have ' _ good influences _ ', which obviously he'd sorely lacked in California. Little did Neil know, queers weren't just in Cali.

Their friendship didn't last forever, though. On top of that, Tommy and Carol had broken up for the last time at some point just before graduation--- not long after, Tommy had disappeared, like no one would notice, on the night of prom. A few weeks later, he came back, and coincidentally, his absence and reappearance lined up with that of Donnie Swan. Tommy and Carol's breakup made Neil's attitude towards him change drastically--- not that it mattered. Billy and Tommy were history by then.

Billy wouldn't go as far as to say he and Tommy had  _ had _ something. They'd fucked around, but Tommy had always been evasive, even more flighty than Billy himself was. If they ever had been something more than  _ friends _ , it didn't last for long. But sometimes he missed him--- he missed having somewhere to go, someone to patch him up and play pretend with, like his life wasn't in constant pieces. But although they'd hung around each other during Billy's first few months in Hawkins, they eventually fell out--- Billy wasn't entirely sure why. He guessed it may be jealousy, or maybe it was that Tommy went crawling back to Donnie, giving him moon-eyes and falling all over him. Billy had a feeling he'd always been like that, too. He couldn't understand how Carol didn't get  _ mad _ at Tommy, but then, he figured, maybe not everyone was as close-minded as he'd thought. Maybe she'd always known about Tommy, and loved him despite it.

After he had a falling out with Tommy, he had little else left. He found himself focusing on Max, however reluctantly, and regardless, something new started to grow between them. An unspoken thing. Billy took the brunt of Neil's shittyness, as always, and in turn, he gave Max more freedom. He may've acted like he hated her, but he couldn't bear to see somebody else live through Neil's bullshit. He went out of his way to hide the things he did for her, the way that he took beatings he didn't have to, just for a chance at her living her life a little. He wondered if he'd done the right thing by doing all that; at least Max had visited him while he was stuck in the Hell that was  _ wherever the fuck _ he was trapped in while recovering. She said flowers weren't allowed in the facility, but the negative part of Billy always doubted that she cared enough to even think of bringing any.

His doubts were proven to be wrong when he got home. Max had put a bouquet of flowers at his bedside and folded up his favorite outfit to change into. He'd have assumed it was Susan who'd done all this, but Susan didn't know him for shit. Max knew his favorite order from the local burger joint, she knew what he used to wash his car, she'd even stolen his jackets enough times for her to know which ones were definite  _ nos _ . Which ones he'd get pissed over. Just like he knew which shitty arcade games she flocked to, Max knew what music he liked. Distant as they could be, they weren't strangers.

She'd also washed the Camaro, since against all fucking odds, it got repaired. Supposedly, somebody else had paid for that, but the fact that Neil hadn't scrapped it out of pure spite was pretty incredible. He had a feeling that had to be, again, because of Max. She wasn't treated like a Saint, but she had some kind of say in Neil's actions. She could manipulate him if she was lucky.

He was fucking glad she'd been lucky, this time.

He was given his keys back the day he got home. Neil said it was only for driving Max to school.

So naturally, he had the urge to drive off and kill himself.

\---

Officially, he was fucked up, but in so many wild and different ways. He, and everyone else, didn't even know where to begin. He was alive, but with a plethora of issues. He'd passed enough tests to be considered safe to drive, but only at Neil's discretion. He needed Neil's approval for practically everything, since Neil was his caretaker, though the title was purely fucking hysterical at this point. Neil was also the one who let him have his optional medications, which he seldom received.

They had said he was unstable. He proved that with his shit, and no matter how many times he tried, he was unable to hold down a job or even get to an interview. He could barely be trusted alone in the house, let alone out in public. Technically, Neil could confiscate whatever he wanted and it'd be all legal. He may be eighteen, but he may as well be a damn kid. He wasn't legally allowed to do shit, because he was a liability at best. 

They both knew that realistically, he shouldn't be driving. The doctors had told them that; it was unlikely that he could focus for that long or be trusted to do shit by himself. But Neil was both a godsend and a demon, allowing Billy a taste of freedom while knowing he was suicidal. Technically he should be supervised while driving, but no one in Hawkins seemed to really give a shit.

Nightmares and fits were not out of the usual. He had migraines and couldn't quite focus past the stress the house made, but the doctors didn't understand. He lost his chances at freedom as they kept him charged as  _ incapable _ , and it felt like there was no hope. Billy Hargrove was little more than a prisoner, to none other than Neil Hargrove.

\---

He made a point not to talk about what happened on the fourth of July. Because in all honesty, he only remembered it all when he tried to sleep. That was when the memories came flooding back, drowning him and ruining any effort he made to rest.

Sometimes it was the things he did. Sometimes it was being dragged, kicking and screaming into that godforsaken building, where the creature had planted his seed in him. Where the seed sprouted, bloomed in his body, ate him from the inside out. Made him into a monster. Spreading through his veins, like vines curling around an abandoned building. 

The building was burning. The sun hurt. Everything hurt. It had felt like he was on fire.

He'd see the people who had died. He'd see his friends, the few he'd had left, become nothing but vessels for the entity that had ruined his life. Sometimes he'd hear Heather's last screams, and it hurt to know that was the last thing he'd ever heard from her. From the point of possession on, it hadn't been Heather, and he'd never see her again.

The thought made him ill. He'd wake up, clawing at his arms. He'd run to the bathroom, hanging over the edge of the bath while dousing himself with ice cold water. The pipes were loud. It pissed his dad off. He remembered being grabbed by his hair, screamed at for keeping Neil awake when he had work tomorrow. This was the fifth day in a row, of him waking everyone up.  _ He had to stop being a piece of shit freeloader, _ was what Neil said.

Then he'd vomited on him. Neil got a little too rough, after that. Threw him down out of sheer shock and disgust. His face hit the side of the tub and he'd bit his lip, cutting into it with his teeth. His arm ached. His scalp burned. He screamed when he hit the floor and the world shook around him.

Susan was awake by then, too. Dragged Neil away. Wanted him to take Billy to the hospital. Neil refused. Neil went back to bed after cleaning off in the kitchen and changing his clothes. Billy wished he could change his clothes and feel better. Wished he could rinse off the memories.

Max was on her knees next to him. Hands on his arms, trying to see if he was okay.

He wasn't fucking okay.

But she'd been worried about him. That night when she had called Steve, she'd been crying. It was one of the only times she'd refused to leave Billy's side, not until she was yelled at to come inside. Unlike Susan and Neil, Max could sense the gravity of the situation, and her fear drove her to do what was best;

_ get him out of there. _

\---

Forfeiting the pills that he'd snagged had been a bit of a chore, hence why he'd waited so many hours to do it. The pills, feeling like iron in his pocket, reminded him of what he felt were  _ better choices _ . When Max had said that she'd asked Steve for help, Billy'd scoffed, thought it was stupid. If Steve hadn't of shown up that night, he would've gone off on his own--- found some place for a slice of peace, and he would've downed the pills. But apparently, Harrington was his appointed Knight in Shining Armor. More like Dipshit in a BMW.

Back then, he hadn't wanted to go with him. But then again, he didn't want to go anywhere. Billy had wanted to die, and no one would let him do that.

Steve wasn't a mean guy, which surprised him. It made him wary, and he tried to cry quieter at night, until he couldn't anymore. Until Steve was turning up music to spare Billy's ego. Then Steve started staying up with him, like he gave a shit.

Steve never yelled at Billy. He never looked at him like he was disgusting, not even when he threw up on the guy's fucking table. It was hard to eat, these days. Everything reminded him of the monster. Of being pinned to the floor, forced to ingest whatever Hellish substance had morphed him into a monster.

He wasn't a monster, anymore. He was a shell. But the shell didn't like the familiar feeling of something crawling down its throat.

He was casual about it. The first few days, he threw up after eating. He'd go to the bathroom when he couldn't hold it in any longer, just long enough that it wasn't suspicious. He'd wait until Steve was busy. And then he'd struggle not to cry as he vomited up every bit of the food he'd eaten, like his body was desperate to purge whatever remnants were left of the monster that had ruined his life.

The vomiting was kind of ironic. He hated the feeling of something in his throat, invading a very personal space. But then he'd go and puke everything back up and make himself panic even more.

As hard as it was to believe, it got better over time. It hadn't in the weeks he'd been back home, but in Steve's house he didn't feel as sick. He stopped vomiting after the first week and a half, though he didn't gamble with unfamiliar foods. Anything that was too  _ wet  _ or  ** _slimy _ ** was something he couldn't even look at.

But slowly, he was feeling less and less like life was a burden.

\---

He remembered when he'd said, " _ Neil forced me to cut it _ ," but he hadn't mentioned the fact that he'd gone into a screaming fit when he was conscious enough to put up a fight. That the hospital staff had to sedate him, or that Neil's fury hit its apex that night and hadn't gone down since.

It was hard to talk, it felt almost impossible. Steve was patient, but he was also wary. He didn't expect Billy to speak to him, obviously, but despite how everyone called him an idiot, he was obnoxiously observant. Maybe it was hard to talk, but it was even harder to get something by Steve Harrington.

He learned a few days into his stay at Chateau de Bitch that Harrington fucking slept with his keys. 

Maybe that was best. He'd gotten an itch, he'd wanted to go for a drive. Maybe one that he wouldn't come back from. But Steve was like a damn psychic who sensed when anyone breathed near the front door.

Every time he went outside, he didn't make it far. Not very far at all before Steve's gentle hands were on him, leading him back inside, postponing whatever bullshit he'd wanted to do. He'd never had a guiding hand before, someone to care for him like this--- after a while, he kind of got used to it, resigned to the care Steve showed him.

\---

He remembered when he looked at Steve Harrington and started to think of him differently.

It was embarrassingly early into his stay with the guy. On one of the many nights in which he'd woken up screaming, Steve had rushed into his room--- but that time was notably different, as Billy hadn't dragged himself out of bed and into the bathroom. Instead he shook and wept in bed, fearful of the darkness that felt like it was going to swallow him whole.

In retrospect, he wasn't sure if Steve even remembered any of it. He was so,  ** _so _ ** fucking tired, dark circles under his eyes and his movements sluggish from sleeplessness, and yet he'd sat himself at the edge of the guest room's bed, gently placing a hand on Billy's leg as he quietly murmured reassurances.

When Billy didn't flinch away, Steve instinctively came in closer, looping an arm around him and bringing him in for a one-armed embrace. He mostly said that it was  _ going to be okay  _ as he rested his head atop Billy's curls. It was repetitive and had never worked before, yet Billy felt the fear ebb, while calmness washed over him. Steve fell asleep holding him, but as if sleepwalking, he eventually left, wearily going back to his own room. Billy was entirely sure that he had no idea of what he'd been doing, but the fact that Steve's only instinct when around him was to coddle him--- well, it made him feel warm inside, while at the same time he wanted to vomit from stress.

It was the last night he'd had nightmares that bad. He still woke up, terrified and dizzy, but he didn't scream anymore. Not when he was in the Harrington house. He'd instead wake up and hear the gentle noises of the wind howling outside, trees rustling, or in the rare instance, Steve snoring from a few rooms away.

He didn't know how to accept that someone--- that  _ anyone _ \--- could have that effect on him. So he pushed down the growing feelings of comfort, and desperately tried to pull himself back together.

\---

After weeks in the Harrington house, it felt like Steve was the only one who looked at him like he wasn't about to break. He was cautious around him, sure, but he didn't suffocate him with worry. He gave Billy the benefit of the doubt, which made the fact that he had almost betrayed that trust, sting. He felt bad, but he didn't know why; it wasn't like he  _ owed  _ him anything.

It felt strange to be so out of shape. He could hardly keep food down, which meant that energy was a thing of the past. He couldn't binge drink or smoke much without feeling worse than he already did; he was already plagued by migraines and panic attacks. Sometimes he sat, staring off into nothingness, his hands feeling empty. He couldn't work out, it was too cold to swim, and if he went for a jog, he'd be liable to pass out.

The sudden loss of mobility made him feel even worse than a near-death experience already would. He should, theoretically, be used to it. It'd been over four months since Starcourt and he'd been bed-bound for almost three of them. But he felt an itch, like something had settled under his skin and was trying to burrow deeper. He hated it.

He knew that Neil looked at him like he was useless. But Steve didn't. Billy could do the dishes, help cook, or just clean whenever possible, and Steve would've treated him with the same amount of respect should he stay in bed all day. It was ironic that his excuse for staying with Steve was that he was  _ helping  _ him, when he felt like he was being a bother.

And unlike Neil, Steve always gave him his medicine. At first it seemed to shock Steve, that he never touched the pills unless he was handed one, but it was so deeply ingrained in Billy's subconscious, that he hadn't thought much about the submissive nature of the exchange. After weeks of browbeating over the amount of medicine he had to take, Billy had relented and now felt bitter towards having to use any at all. It didn't matter if he was in pain.

Unless he was in the Harrington house.

Steve had ( _ whether he knew it or not _ ) threatened to take him to the hospital during one of his worst headaches, when he kept vomiting and whimpering. But Billy had begged him not to, because he knew damn well that it'd expose Neil as being his caretaker. He couldn't stomach Steve finding that out--- that he was more like a damn  ** _baby _ ** than a man.

They'd written off his negative response to Neil as being related to his trauma from Starcourt. It was either him or Susan, and Susan wasn't exactly in line to deal with that. Besides, a father was looked to for guidance when it came to such things. Meek little Susan obviously couldn't handle medications and other shit.

A stupid part of him wished that he could've been put into Steve's care, that he could just stay in his house forever. That was a fairytale of an idea, if nothing else, and Billy knew their time together was limited, feeling that limitation creep up on him as time went on, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

\---

He'd left Steve's house in a hurry. He couldn't process how he was feeling, but he didn't want to go home. He also didn't want to be a fucking bratty bitch and beg Steve to let him to stay. He'd called Carol, who he knew had just gotten a new car ( _ she hadn't said more than a few words to him since he'd come back, but they'd all been about the damn vehicle _ ), and she'd picked him up and gotten him out of there. She owed him, even if it'd been over a year since the event. He'd beaten up a few guys who tried to get a little too friendly with her. 

It wasn't exactly a friendship, anymore, but it was something. Something to take his mind off of Steve Harrington, even if that always seemed to be a lost cause. He'd had the guy on his mind since he first met him and he doubted the feeling was mutual.

  
However, the dam was broken in calling in that favor. Carol chided him for his attitude and questioned why he'd needed to be picked up from  _ Steve's _ , of all places. It was easy to remember, then, that Carol had once been one of Steve's best friends. Unlike Tommy, Carol hadn't spent much time going on rants about Steve, likely because she'd heard enough of him, her quota filled for life. Billy was pretty sure that Carol had spent the better part of her life watching Tommy pine for men who didn't see him, let alone want him--- he respected her lack of bitterness, in that regard. He wished he could be a bit more like that. But it didn't make him any more talkative, and as always, he felt himself pushing away even the people with decent intentions. 

It was a little sad, to see Carol's furrowed brow from the corner of his eye, but he tried not to think of it. He was even less eager when she tried to open up a conversation about his stay at the hospital. Arriving home was a twisted form of relief, a double-edged sword, a back-stabbing kind of relief. If he hadn't been a prisoner of his house before, he was once he got back home. Didn't feel like a fucking home. His room felt stale when he entered it, like someone had died in it and a ghost lingered. Billy figured that was whatever remnants of himself were left, drifting through the air like a curse. He was a shell of a man, now. He'd have to get used to it.

A few days back at home and everything felt miserable again, asides from when he got to visit Steve. He saw him with Robin a lot. At first he wondered if they were a thing, but she looked at him like he had the charm of a rusty swingset. He quickly figured out that they were much more like siblings, especially when Robin pulled Steve's shirt up over his head and nearly dunked him into a trash can while closing the store up.

He'd never really thought much on the fixation he'd had on Steve. Hawkins was boring as fuck--- and Steve was the only interesting guy around. He acted weird. Didn't do shit with the other teens. He showed up at like, one fucking party, and that was it.

Steve Harrington didn't seem all that special. 

Yet he still wouldn't leave the guy alone.

Who knew that that fixation would, like a phoenix, rise from its ashes.

Except Billy was softer, then. Kinder. Stupider. He'd never liked letting people close, but he found himself telling Steve things. Letting him see what he liked. Spending time with him, even when he didn't have to.

He could've gone home the day after he got there. But he overstayed his welcome instead. 

He hated himself for it.

Billy wasn't sure what was more selfish. Wanting to spend unending time around Steve, or wanting to completely ditch him.

He found it was more the latter, after a while. 

\---

' _ It was just an accident _ ,' Susan had said, parroting words that Neil had surely said to her. She was shaking a bit, but Billy refused to look at her. He hated her, a lot of the time. She wasn't a mean woman, but she'd married Neil Fucking Hargrove and he wished she hadn't. He wished that she'd gone and found some other guy, anybody but his dad.

And accidents happened a lot, in their house. Susan may as well be referring to his entire fucking life. Whether it was three weeks ago or yesterday, his life was full of them. It didn't comfort him, it didn't make him feel any better. It didn't make his bruises disappear. Didn't make the taste of blood leave his mouth.

It was useless. It didn't matter what he did, it wouldn't matter if he married a girl and became rich. Neil Hargrove would never give a shit about him. The man had it all, a nice wife, a cute kid, and that hadn't been fucking enough, either. It was why his mother was gone, without a letter sent since she'd disappeared.

Hell, he'd come home early one day. Heard Max talking all kinds of sweet shit about him, about how nice he'd been and how much she loved spending time with him. She said he was a  _ good  _ brother. He'd nearly fucking cried, for more than one reason. Susan and Neil had been freshly fucking married back when Max used to talk shit about him, and she was pretty stupid back then--- didn't know shit about Neil, and the consequences of her actions. She'd thought Neil was bad to  _ her _ , when he was a whole other kind of Hell to Billy.

But it didn't matter how much she sucked up to Neil, or how much good shit she said. Neil would still turn around and slap him the next day for something inane. As time went on, it felt like he needed less and less excuses for his actions.

People always wondered why Billy was so reckless. Maybe, he just wanted it to be fucking over. Maybe he drove his Camaro like a madman for a reason. Maybe he just wished he'd fucking crash and die, someday.

\---

Billy bent a spoon at breakfast and his bowl was thrown at the wall by his father. The porcelain shattered and the yelling started. His keys had been nowhere in sight, he knew Neil kept them from him because he'd tried to kill himself the night he came home. And every night after that. He'd beaten him black and blue, more than once.

But Billy finally had had enough of it all. Once he found his keys, he left the house and didn't plan on coming back. Owner of a lonely heart had decided to mock him on the radio as he slammed the door shut.

He had never told Steve about all the times he tried to get jobs, or that he kept having panic attacks. He had them at home. In his car. In the store.  _ All the time _ . He only felt better--- he only felt  _ safe  _ near Steve, or when he was with someone else in his car. He'd rather have a conversation with fucking  _ Lucas  _ than be alone.

And Steve never asked about why he didn't have a job. Nobody outside of his house ever did. Steve looked at him with the same gaze that Jane had, that Joyce had. That Will had. They all knew. They all knew he was struggling, but they were polite enough not to mention it. Nice enough to treat him like he wasn't the fucking mess that he was.

It wasn't just the monster that plagued his mind. It wasn't just the crawling feeling in his throat when he tried to fall asleep and woke up crying and gagging. It was the memories of  _ before _ , of  **after** .

Billy Hargrove wasn't missed when he was at the hospital, and he wouldn't be missed if he was in the ground. No one had cared that he'd come back. No one had visited him to begin with.  _ No one gave a shit. _

When he'd first come home, Susan had thrown a shitty 'welcome home!' party and by the end of it, Neil had torn down the streamers and shoved Billy into his room for not eating Susan's shitty casserole.

He didn't deserve sympathy. He'd been a prick and now he was living his life sentence; disregard by everyone around him, unless they wanted to fuck him.

He went back to how he used to do shit. Slamming his fists against his forehead, pulling at his hair. Screaming when he was parked in the middle of nowhere, like someone might hear him and help him.

No one ever heard.

No one ever came.

The night he came back from Steve's house, he tried to swallow his whole bottle of pills. Neil punched him in the stomach and shoved his fingers down his throat. Cursed at him until he threw it all up, locked him in the bathroom. Turned the radio up when Billy started to scream and cry. 

There had been a reason he'd been given only a few of his pills when he'd left for Harrington's house.

\---

When he wasn't around, Neil was better. He was nicer. Max even  _ said  _ that he was nicer when he wasn't around. But she never knew him at the hospital, never sat in a room with him for hours on end, trapped.

  
The truth was, that no matter how much he hated Neil, he couldn't leave Max. He couldn't leave Susan. He couldn't let the same thing happen twice, so he'd grin and bear it. He'd let it happen to him, so that it wouldn't happen to them. Because he honestly feared that if he left, one of them would be killed. And as much as he'd tried to make Max's life difficult while showing Susan little to no respect, that didn't mean he wanted them to  ** _die_ ** . And certainly the fuck  _ not  _ by his dad's hands.

He never told Max about the times when their father had beat him. She usually wasn't around to witness any of it, not until Neil got too carried away. It was only recently that she'd noticed. She didn't know about all the nights he'd disappeared before Starcourt, and he never planned on telling her.

Neil had never let it get too far. Never hit him hard enough for it to matter. Always threatened him, told him he was a  _ pussy _ if he couldn't take it. It was a prison sentence, one he could only find an escape from through death at best.

\---

Of course the guy would find him at the abandoned farmhouse. In life and in death, Steve Harrington was a pain in his fucking ass.

It was hard to cut back on the cravings. Three months in that hospital had beaten most of his cravings out of him. But that first time at the barn, he hadn't indulged in alcohol like that in months. It filled an aching void that had been present since leaving Steve's house. And he'd brought a handful of pills along for the ride, shoved them into his pockets, and considered taking them.

  
Things only got worse from there.

He'd regretted his actions, though that didn't fix things. He'd expected to laugh his ass off in the cold when Max had first called Steve, but instead he'd come to his rescue, and he kept coming, through thick and thin. It only made him feel worse and guiltier.

He didn't want to feel like such a burden.

\---

Life in California had been easier. From a young age, he'd go missing more often than not. At parties nearly every night. He narrowly avoided Neil's wrath. He lost that security in moving to Hawkins; the place was tiny and a pain in his fucking ass. He'd often ditched Max before, but he couldn't now. He was stuck there, in shackles. All because Max had to rat on him for kissing a guy when he took out the trash.

Neil had threatened Billy when Max told him about what she'd seen. Max was oblivious to the consequences. Didn't know that Neil then told him all kinds of nasty shit, pushed him against the wall of the garage. Knocked him around until all the tools on the wall clattered to the floor.

"If I ever see you with that fucking boy, you're both dead," it was no idle threat. Billy didn't doubt it. He hadn't even liked the fucking guy, but he didn't deserve to die. Billy felt little for his own safety at that point, but he wouldn't put it past Neil to end the life of someone who threatened his reputation.

"If I ever see you with  _ any  _ boy..." The threat was unspoken, Billy's eyes watering as he tried to recover from the beating. He couldn't even go to school for a week, and Max wasn't allowed to see him. He was grounded, supposedly. As if locking your son away like he were a damn plagued rat was any form of discipline that a sane person would invoke.

The saddest part was that he hadn't even liked the guy that much. He'd loved the ocean more than he'd ever liked that prick. But still, Billy couldn't help but be haunted by that exchange. It didn't change who he was, not in the ways of who he wanted to be with or what he wanted to do. Those were intrinsic things that didn't change no matter how many times you were hit or berated. So it didn't keep him from acting on his desires all the time, but it stopped him from staring for too long, stopped him from daydreaming, from considering paths he couldn't take. He still did things impulsively, despite how he knew nothing could or would change. He was on a train with one set track, and he wasn't allowed to take detours.

And the thing was, Neil had removed the end of the tracks long ago. There was no destination for Billy Hargrove, there was only destruction. Neil didn't foresee a future for Billy, thus he wouldn't be given the luxury of having one. But for the first time in a decade, it felt like there was something else down the line. Standing between him and that destruction, was Steve Harrington, gently laying down new tracks, to better places, to brighter times.

Steve just didn't know it.

\---

He remembered New Years Eve in bits and pieces. After they came tumbling back inside, they'd fallen all over themselves, laughing like nothing mattered. It was the best he'd felt in years. He wasn't as drunk as Steve, which in retrospect made him feel worse. He could recall their actions in a way he figured was much clearer than Steve would.

Kissing Steve had felt so fucking good. The way his drink-clumsy hands held his face, even if only for a few moments. The feel of Steve's cheeks and jaw as he ran his thumbs over them, trying to memorize them in the limited time they had.

Steve fell asleep a good hour before he did. He was slumped against the couch, knocked out and not about to wake up anytime soon, the sun peeking in through the windows, softly illuminating the living room and spreading a weak light over Steve's body. Billy, numb from the alcohol and blissed out by the night they'd had, just watched him. Stared at his face as air whistled through Steve's teeth. He was drooling after a little bit, and stupid as it was, Billy found it pretty cute.

He fell asleep at some point, but when he was still awake, his eyes hadn't left Harrington.

Steve didn't mention anything from that night. If he remembered, he was doing Billy a favor by pretending it hadn't happened, saving his bruised ego in the process. If it'd been anyone else, Billy wouldn't have felt weird about what happened--- because honestly, making out and getting a little handsy was far from the most risque thing he'd ever done. But with Steve it felt different.  _ Deeper _ , more  **dangerous** , like he'd fall into it and drown.

So he tried his best to stay away from the whirlpool of emotions that Steve Harrington made him feel.

\---

The weeks dragged on and Neil only became madder, as if he could sense the emotions his son was feeling. Despite his best efforts, Billy couldn't forget about Steve--- he'd tried his best to do that by getting blasted at a party with some people from high school, and he'd failed miserably. Ended up begging Tommy to take him to Harrington's. Tommy had been rightfully concerned and a little shocked by his inebriated and desperate state--- but Billy had refused to tell him anything.

It had been pathetic. The fact that Steve, or anyone else, had endured his behavior was unbelievable. Even worse, Billy tried to make things seem casual when he'd show up at the video store--- at least, as casual as it could all be, after he'd ignored Steve for that long beforehand. As if in some poor way to make it up to him, he'd cared for him when he was sick--- but that felt like nothing compared to what Steve had done for him.

Having someone give a shit about him made things even more difficult. It was hard enough to live with the pitying looks that Max gave him. Now he had Harrington trying to piece together every traumatic fragment of his shitty fucking life. But at the same time, being distant from Steve felt like it was harder than living with the worry that he gave him. It made him feel selfish; he knew damn well he shouldn't have gotten as close as he had, but he still couldn't stay away. Apparently, neither could Steve.

But the shock of finding out that Steve was dating... well, he should've expected it. Steve deserved a nice girl, he deserved better than being sad and strung along by someone like Billy. Yet Billy had still felt his chest ache when he'd found out.

The next time he and Steve were alone, it felt like a parallel to the night at the barn. Billy had felt like he was going insane, feeling something close to how he'd been on the night at the Byers house; it was an inexplicable rage that had settled against his bones, making him ache and feel like he was going to fall apart. And that scared him. He hated it. As if sensing it, Steve seemed cautious around him, squirrelish at best. It shattered his heart, but wasn't it what he'd wanted? Steve to be safe and happy, and he didn't need Billy Hargrove for that.

He'd considered--- telling Steve about his birthday. But in the end, he didn't. However, that didn't mean that Tommy had forgotten, and in some effort to take pity on  _ the dude who almost died at Starcourt _ , he tried to drag him into some impromptu partying, maybe to spare him from doing it by himself and having a replay of the last time he'd gone out.

The last time he'd celebrated a birthday, it'd been a total shitshow. Tommy had  _ insisted _ that it was a good idea--- and as they often were, Carol's parents were out of town. So it was easy to throw a party there, and make it  _ all _ about Billy. And in theory, that sounded like his wet dream; people hanging off of him, booze, probably something harder than  **weed** for once, but in reality, it just made for him getting wasted and being dragged home. It was strange, because despite the falling out he'd had with Tommy not long after that, here he was, a year later, kind-of, sort-of friends with him again. And this year didn't feel much different, when Tommy tried to get him into going to Alan Branker's for one of his weekend wastoid parties.

And of course, Tommy casually grilled him; asked where  _ Stevie _ was, while giving him a  ** _look_ ** . It wasn't like it had been in the past--- it wasn't a  _ jealous _ look. Billy figured, there wasn't much to be jealous of. Tommy had Donnie, and he had obviously been the object of Tommy's affections since day one. Billy might be a bit jealous, if he weren't so disconnected from everything. But instead, he's just interested, watching them interact in ways he wasn't used to.

Billy watched as Donnie began to flap his hands around, obviously amused by Tommy's jokes since he was giggling, beginning to tap his fingers against his thigh as he watched him, like there was nothing in the world other than Tommy. It was cute, but also a little gross. The laughter had turned to slight wheezing when Tommy cracked some kind of joke that wasn't even  _ half _ as funny as it should be. But Donnie's just so enamored, and it makes Billy's gaze go soft. He doesn't poke fun at him, despite having often done it in the past--- he'd mocked Tommy on one or two occasions, when it came to how he acted around Donnie, and he'd likely done the same to Donnie, but he didn't feel like doing that, now. They were in their own little world, devoid of the hardships others are facing. He found himself thinking that it must be nice.

Of course, Tommy's kindness was also a little backhanded. He brought them all to the video store, grabbing a few tapes to rent, and thus running right into Steve. Billy did notice, how Steve took some money off of their purchase, and it made him eager to get out of there. As always, he didn't know how to accept any form of kindness.

He coped with the weird feeling in his gut by drinking, but he only felt worse. Once he got to Alan's party a few hours later, he disbanded from Tommy's group. Eventually, he took a pill that someone handed him, though it proved to be a bad idea, and the next time he was coherent, Tommy was hauling him to the car and forcing him to go home. Billy felt ill, needless to say.

The pharmacy incident ate away at his restraint. His act was shattered and he felt every insecurity fall down on his shoulders, crushing him, making it hard to breathe. Before he knew it, he was admitting every nasty thing he'd had stuck in his head.

He'd regretted it immediately.

The only way he could protect himself was by putting those layers of dissociation back up. By pushing Steve away, even if he desperately wanted to be close. All he really wanted was for someone to  _ care _ , but the consequences of that desire's fulfillment was not worth it.

' _ Why do you fucking care, Steve? _ _'_ He'd almost wanted an answer, too. But when Steve had reached out, he recoiled, as if burned by the very concept of someone answering his eternal question. He felt as if he were filled with venom. Like he'd snap and bite someone, killing them almost instantly.

He hated how everything that Steve did just felt like another thing he owed. He wanted to be grateful, but he was  _ afraid _ . He couldn't let Steve be filled with that poison. So he'd done the best he could;

_ leave _ .

\---

Less than a year ago, things had been so much simpler. Heather had been the one that convinced him to get the job at the pool; they hadn't known each other all that well at that point, but she was one of the few people Billy hadn't pissed off. She was a lot nicer than he deserved, and most of the time, it felt like she was the only one who tolerated him--- Hell, maybe even  _ liked  _ him.

_ "Hey, you know--- if you ever need to talk about anything..."  _ She'd once tried to get him to open up, when she'd spotted a particularly bad bruise on his torso. He'd learned early on in his job that he had to wear a shirt on some days--- Neil didn't lay hands on him as much back then, but it was still a risk. And everyone knew Billy had dropped his combative nature, so seeing bruises all over him...

_ "I'm  _ ** _fine_ ** _ ,"  _ Billy had  _ almost  _ snapped at her. But he'd refrained from it. Instead he just pulled his shirt on and left Heather in the break room, ignoring her concerned gaze. Fast forward to his life now, and all he wanted to do was thank her for having given a shit about him.

They'd spent more than a few nights sitting against the Camaro, just chatting as music played on the radio. Sometimes they played basketball or tennis, though the latter wasn't exactly Billy's favorite. Back then, Billy couldn't have figured out why Heather hung out with him--- it was only in the months spent recovering in the hospital, that he realized she'd been his best friend. And not just that, but he'd been  _ hers _ , too.

Perhaps it was funny. The only girl he'd ever been close with and they both had no interest in one another beyond their friendship. It took a while to come to terms with the fact that he'd loved Heather, because he'd had so few friends in the last few years--- he'd almost forgotten what it had been like.

He still kept some of her cassettes in the Camaro. It made him feel guilty, because he didn't feel like he deserved to even have them. But he couldn't get rid of them--- he couldn't get rid of the beach towel in his trunk, either, or the photo of them that was tucked away into it. She'd put it in there only a few nights before she'd died. She'd made a joke about going to California with him someday, so she may as well keep it there--- but when she'd forgotten it genuinely and he'd called to tell her he'd give it to her the next day, she sounded serious when she said;

"I wouldn't mind actually going, you know. I've got some money saved up. Maybe--- maybe we could go? Before Summer's over?" He knew he'd infected her with that dream. She was the only person he spoke about California with, and he'd made her eyes light up with interest on more than one occasion. When she'd suggested visiting, and implied she'd help to  _ pay _ , he'd felt his chest ache.

"Y---yeah. Maybe," Billy had said the response quietly, not knowing that it'd be one of the last times he'd ever speak to her. He wished he'd asked her to leave with him that night. Of all the impulsive desires he'd ever had, that could've been the one that saved them.

But instead, he met a monster that night, and they never went to California. And every night since, he'd fought with himself over what had happened. He felt haunted by everything he'd done, and most of all, he didn't feel like he deserved to have called Heather a friend.

Not when he'd been her demise.

\---

After the Starcourt incident, all chances of escape from Hawkins felt like they'd faded. There was no going with Heather to California, there was no running from his father, there was only suffering. Or so he'd thought, for the longest time.

Spending the last week reminiscing had done little for his mental health. He knew he couldn't stay in his house forever. He desperately wanted for Neil to leave, so he could have a  _ chance  _ at calling somebody. But it was hard enough getting out of bed. He'd spent the better part of his first week home from the hospital in bed, unable to move. If he'd thought Neil had been selective in giving him his medicine before, it was much worse now. He wasn't even sure when he'd last had a pain pill. Or a decent meal to eat.

He may've tried to kill himself, but this definitely wasn't the way he wanted to die. He didn't want to die without seeing Steve again, even if that was horribly selfish at this point. So once he was sure Neil had fallen asleep, he forced himself to his door, ratting the knob a bit before the lock came loose. Neil hadn't done a very good job with installing it, and in the few weeks since he'd done that, Billy had managed to fuck around with it. Truth be told, he didn't think Neil even bothered to lock it anymore.

He heard Neil snoring, the door to his room slightly open. He prayed that his father wouldn't hear as he dialed the phone, holding it close to his ear as he shook. The house wasn't cold by any means, but Billy still was freezing.

" _ Hello? _ " The voice he'd wanted to hear so badly, greeted him and gave him hope. But before he could respond, he heard the snoring cease. It was only about nine pm, but Neil seldom kept a proper sleep schedule. He slept whenever he wanted. And if he left, he usually jammed something against Billy's door.

" ** _Please_ ** ," was all he got out, choking on the reply as he heard Neil get up from bed. He was forced to gently put the phone back onto the hook, trying not to let emotion take him over when he heard a troubled ' _ Billy? _ ' from the other end of the line.

He didn't even know what that was going to do. But he did his best to make himself look less suspicious, so he decided to clean some dishes and clear the takeaway mess from the counters. He cursed when his stomach grumbled, but Neil was far enough away to not mock him.

"Stop with all the racket," Neil said at one point, a hand pressed to his head as he passed by the kitchen and went back to his bedroom. Billy was pretty sure he operated on a constant hangover, which was one reason why he couldn't do anything in the house anymore.

" _ You can do shit once they come back _ ," Neil had said a few days ago, after scolding Billy for trying to leave the house. " ** _You're staying here until your sister and mother come back_ ** ," it was a threat, and a promise. Neil used the excuse that they hadn't taken any keys. So what if they had to get in? But Billy knew, he knew  _ damn well _ , they weren't coming back.

Part of him wanted to just run out the front door. The other part of him knew he wouldn't make it very far. Neil may not be in a lot better shape than him, but he could run faster and punch harder. With no pain medication, Billy was practically useless. If Neil even made it to work, Billy was too exhausted to even consider leaving, and it didn't help that his window was stuck. He had no real way of escaping.

He found himself gazing out the kitchen window, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. He'd done enough crying for the rest of his whole damn life. But yet, he still cried. He found himself hoping, just as naively as his father, that Susan and Max  _ would  _ come home.

He thought it'd been bad with them, but he was beginning to realize, it was so much worse without them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i know the hero/villain quote is from a 2008 movie but hear me out: i dont care and its cool so pretend he read it in a comic book or somethin. the sentiment has been around for eons. 
> 
> edit as of june 2020: editing this chapter an upwards of four times has nearly killed me, scoob


	13. Side B, Mind Body Problem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you wanna know what's been Up, it'll be explained in the end notes

It felt like every week of his life in the last year had been competing for the title of ' _ Longest Week of Steve Harrington's Life _ '. However, this time it finally felt like there was a winner. Nothing could top the anxiety he felt at not being able to contact Billy. He knew he couldn't just wander over there like an idiot, he didn't want to get them  _ both  _ killed. But the hope of Max and Susan returning to help him was starting to wane. His parents had come home from one of their many trips, but the house being full didn't make him feel any better.

He was close to his breaking point when he heard the phone ring. He assumed it was going to be Robin, since she'd told him she'd call him after dinner with Laurie. He did not expect it to be Billy Hargrove, quietly begging him--- for  _ something _ . For  ** _help_ ** . He'd only heard him sound that vulnerable a few times before; he had no hesitation in getting out the door as soon as possible.

Steve wasn't exactly a master at improvisation, but he knew enough about Neil and Billy to figure out that no matter what he said, this wasn't going to end well. Trying to act casual might lessen the severity of whatever reaction was had, but he just had to hope for the best. So once he parked, he walked up to the Hargrove's door, knocked on it lightly, and attempted to look  _ casual _ . Half of him expected to be standing there all night, unanswered, but the sound of footsteps from the other side made him tense and swallow.

He wasn't thrilled to see that it was Neil who answered the door. He didn't look too excited, either. Behind Neil, he could see Billy, who almost looked like he was  _ withering _ . Max and Susan were nowhere to be seen--- which wasn't surprising. The school gave different excuses every time the kids asked, so Steve was used to a lack of answers.

"Hey," Steve started, in his best attempt to  **smile ** and be  _ nice _ , "I was just wondering what Billy was up to," he gestured towards Billy, as if that'd make Neil let him in, or Billy  _ out _ . Such was not the case.

"He doesn't need to go anywhere, kid. He doesn't have a job," the unspoken words hit harder than the ones Neil spat out. It was obvious that Neil had no consideration for whatever life his son had outside of the Hell he'd created.

"He's got friends, though. Maybe he can stay at my house for a bit," he knew that was a gamble to say that, but he held his ground. Stared Neil in the eye as he suggested it, as if it didn't ignite a rage in the man's eyes. He knew there was no winning when Neil tried to close the door on him, so he dropped the polite act.

"Let's get out of here," Steve gestured to Billy as he pushed his way inside. The further he got, the more he got a whiff of the alcohol that Neil stank of. He was either drunk or hungover, because he stumbled when Steve pushed past him.

"I don't have my keys," Billy admitted, his eyes on the floor. At first, Steve didn't know why he mentioned it--- he would've gladly driven Billy himself. But there was a slight shake to Billy, and with a little observation, Steve knew the cause. His gaze went to Billy's hands--- then his wrists--- and finally to his arms. There were bruises, both faded and prominent, as well as a few cuts. As he got a closer look at him, he noticed how  _ thin  _ Billy looked, and how pale he was.

It was naive to think that Neil would've been kinder to his son after what happened. But many things had happened, and Neil obviously didn't have enough humanity to give a shit. One of the few things Billy had left was that car, and he wasn't even allowed that. It was a lot to unpack in just five words, and all of them made Steve feel god-awful.

Of all the things to make him irate, it was somehow that. His temper snapped and before he'd thought much about it, he marched past Billy, reeling up to slam his fist into Neil's face. He didn't doubt his actions at all; the punch hit  ** _hard_ ** .

Billy was more than a little shocked by that turn of events, his eyes wide; there was no missing the fear in his eyes, especially since Neil's fury didn't land on Steve. It went straight to Billy, as if he had been the one to personally wrong him at every turn, and Steve's fists and actions were still, somehow, attached to Billy instead.

Steve grabbed him by the front of his shirt and spit in his face.

"Don't fucking touch him. You ever touch him again and I'll kill you," he didn't know if he could, but he'd beat the shit out of Neil anyway. Neil was bigger than him, but Neil was no fool. On top of being hopelessly hungover, he couldn't go hitting some random guy and get away with it. Steve wasn't Billy, he wasn't the man's personal pin cushion. He wasn't obligated to be anything to Neil, other than a thorn in his side.

Steve was well aware that there were consequences to his actions, but he'd had enough of Neil. He'd had enough of seeing the damage he inflicted on Billy, and how Billy suffered because of it. It wasn't what anyone deserved.

Steve finally knew the answer to one of the earlier questions that he'd asked him himself. If he'd known about Neil when he met Billy, he would've beaten the shit out of Neil then, too. He would've taken Billy and Max and done  _ something _ .  **Anything ** other than let it get this far.

"Get. The fuck out of my house." When he let go of Neil, he stayed in front of him to keep him from glaring at Billy. His words were said to the both of them, and Steve knew that. He grabbed Billy's hand in his own and shouldered his way past Neil, in an attempt to go to Billy's room to get his things. To Steve's credit, he was going to let Neil off easy. He knew Billy was scared, and Billy was the priority here--- not Steve, or his white-hot rage.

But then he heard a quiet ' _ fucking faggots _ ' from Neil, and it was within only a few seconds that he'd whirled around and thrown himself back at the man. He had Neil on the floor in a flash. Steve was so fucking pissed, his fists slamming into the shithead's face. He counted them.  _ One _ .  **Two** .  ** _Three_ ** . How many times had he done this to Billy? Billy's mother? Other women? Had he done this to Max, too?

"You piece of shit!" Steve yelled it with more vehemence than he'd felt in his entire life. Fury he didn't know he could feel. Neil got in a few punches and a few swats, but he was spitting blood before long and he relented. Adrenaline was on Steve's side.

But Billy's hand was also on his shoulder. Suddenly, he understood how Billy must've felt, on that night at the Byers house.

"Steve..." It was a quiet voice that pulled him from his daze. He tilted his head up to look at Billy, who was crying. That tore Steve apart more than Neil ever could. So as much as he wanted to beat Neil to death, he got off of him. Glared down at him with a silent threat in his eyes. He watched as Neil peeled himself off the floor and fucked off to what Steve assumed was his bedroom.

Before he'd thought much on it, he'd wrapped his arms around Billy and held him close. He heard the quiet sobs but knew better than to acknowledge them; he only hugged Billy tighter as he said, " ** _it's okay. It's okay_ ** ."  _ He was going to make sure it was okay. _

A few seconds later, they were walking to Billy's room. Billy wiped at his tears with little effort, stray tears still streaking down his cheeks, and along the way Steve found a stray tissue box and offered it to Billy, whose hands were still shaking.

"Just throw it all on the bed. I'll grab what I need," Billy said it in a frigid tone of voice, which Steve didn't take to heart. He went through Billy's closet, taking out everything and putting it on the bed. A tux ended up on the top of the pile and Billy grabbed it and threw it on the floor. Message received. That wasn't going with them.

A handful of jewelry was grabbed and shoved into the bag. Then, a few cassette tapes. Hairspray, brushes, and many other things were left behind. Steve found himself staring at a mirror, imagining Billy gazing into it whenever he got ready. None of the furniture would ever leave this place. If he knew Neil worth a shit, he had a feeling he'd burn it all once Billy left.

Billy didn't have a lot of stuff, really. The most effort came with taking down the posters, which Billy had put up with surprising precision and thoughtfulness. They came down easily and they were rolled up. They were the last thing on the pile, and before he knew it Billy had picked out everything he wanted and shoved it into a duffel bag. Wasn't much, but it was obviously only the things he really cared about.

Steve had almost expected Billy to be done, but he crouched in front of his dresser and pulled a drawer out. He reached under and Steve heard tape tearing. Billy lifted an embroidered handkerchief away from it, the fabric being adorned with white flowers. It was obviously something precious, enough that he put it into his pocket rather than his bag. 

Steve knew better than to offer any help with gathering things, so he instead got the door for Billy. First the bedroom door, then the front door. Billy said nothing as he tossed his bag into Steve's trunk, but he paused for a moment or two before he sank into the passenger seat.

Steve got into his car before he had the chance to rethink leaving and decided to assault Neil again. He didn't need to visit a police station--- no Hopper, no get out of jail free card. Plus he didn't have Joyce to call, which over his parents, would be his first choice. Damn, he really missed Joyce.

He knew when he needed to back down. Billy needed him, so he didn't think twice about reaching over to take his hand. Once the car was going, he could confidently drive one-handed. He knew his way from the Hargrove's back to his place like it was etched into his fucking brain.

Billy, in turn, didn't seem to think much about holding Steve's hand. He was distant, and Steve didn't push him. He did absentmindedly run his thumb over Billy's hand, and after a few minutes, he felt Billy squeeze his hand; he acknowledged the gesture, and did nothing to stop it from continuing.

\---

Billy broke down, eventually. Once they were in the Harrington's driveway, he felt the tears start to roll down his cheeks. Steve fighting Neil had made him freeze in fear. One half of his brain screamed at him to stop the fight, and he had flinched every time Steve had been hit or batted at. But the other part of him wouldn't let him move, as if he were a deer caught in headlights. He felt bad for it, but then again he felt bad about a lot of things, presently.

He didn't know what to do or say, in this situation. Despite the last few months, he still would've never expected Steve to actually save him, not when it came down to the wire. To do anything of what he'd just done--- it wasn't a thing he'd anticipated. It overwhelmed him in a way he wasn't used to.

Billy looked up for the first time since he'd gotten into the car, and he immediately noticed two other parked cars near them. That had to mean that Steve's parents were home. And god, did he feel like shit. The guilt came rolling in, crashing over him and threatening to wash away the rest of his resolve.

As if reading his mind, Steve spoke up; "I don't care what they think," was all he said, and it was left pretty open. It was a fierce statement, and Billy kind of liked this side of Steve, honestly. For once in his life, he wasn't going to argue with him or be difficult.

But as Steve turned the car off and they took their seatbelts off, it was like a dam broke, and Billy felt tears pouring down his cheeks again. They were no longer holding hands, so Billy could try, however desperately, to wipe the tears from his face. But it didn't help, in fact it caused him to just sob into his hands.

"I  **needed ** you." he said it in such a desperate way, he hated it. He felt himself go tense as Steve exited the car, coming around to his side. He didn't even look up when Steve opened the door, but he did freeze. Even with his gaze aimed at his shoes, he could see that Steve had knelt down. He wrapped his arms around Billy and pressed his face into his chest. Even though it was cold and wet outside, Steve didn't hesitate to do any of it.

"I know. I'm here. I'm always here, okay?" And he believed him, too. Steve patiently wiped at his face with the sleeve of his shirt, smiling at him, like he was relieved. Billy had never expected to have such an impact on someone, and for that someone to be so forgiving.

Once Billy finally felt alright enough to get out of the car, he pulled himself together and Steve handed him his bag. Even if he felt comforted by Steve, it was awkward as all fuck to drag his shit inside. Steve had departed, going to hunt down his parents after he washed his hands and face, and Billy was left to bring his stuff upstairs. For a hot second, he considered dumping it all in Steve's room, which he inwardly felt pretty shocked over. He swerved and went to the guest room instead, figuring that was the more sane option.

He heard light arguments below him, the kind he expected from a family like Steve's. He didn't picture the Harrington's to be of the yelling sort. They may be annoying and overbearing, but they weren't pricks like Neil.

Anything was better than Neil, though.

He spent a few minutes sitting in the middle of the guest room, the only place where he'd felt at home in the last year. His shit was spread out around him and all over the room, making a moderate mess despite how few things he'd brought. He heard Steve enter the room and he turned his head as Steve sat down beside him, bumping shoulders with him. He had brought bags of frozen vegetables and he gently placed them against Billy's particularly bruised wrist and forearm.

For some reason, Billy's chest was hurting. He saw Steve press a bag against his own face, where Neil had gotten in a particularly good punch. He didn't know what to say, at first, but it felt good to be near Steve again, despite the circumstances.

\---

Steve was leaning in close, his head perched on Billy's shoulder. He was close enough that Billy's hair was practically in his face. Steve wondered if things would've been different--- if he'd known about Neil when they met. If he could've done anything to change how their lives went. Would Billy have been possessed, if someone had just been there for him?

All it took was Jane showing him compassion. Proving that he was human, and Billy'd had the strength of a thousand men. What if he'd had that in the years before? He felt like he'd inexplicably let Billy down, despite never knowing this. All he managed to say was a quiet, "hey," like that helped.

\---

To Billy, it did. It offered a sense of normalcy. He took a deep breath, the scent of Steve's shitty cologne catching on his tongue, swamping him relentlessly. He  _ loved  _ it. You'd think he'd be able to afford a decent fucking cologne, but no--- he wore something that was obnoxious, smelling a bit like pine trees and a lot like he didn't have a sense of smell. But he didn't smell anything like Neil, or Susan's fucking lavender candles, and that was all that mattered.

"Hey," Billy said back, and without thinking much about it, he used his less-bruised hand to take Steve's hand in his. "Thanks," he was quiet, still, and he felt almost scared for some reason. No one had seen him like this, and a few months ago, he would have sincerely preferred death to showing anyone what he was like. How much he  _ hurt _ . How much Neil hurt  _ him _ . Something had cracked, and it was more than just bones, when he'd nearly died. He came back weaker, and Neil only took advantage of that.

The years spent with Neil may never fade from his memory, but sitting there with Steve Harrington made things hurt a little less, at least. Knowing someone cared about him--- that someone had done something for him--- it started to fill the cracks. He didn't feel like his insides were boiling, and no one was there to make fun of him. It was a peaceful moment, which turned into peaceful minutes. They didn't say anything else. They just let things be.

\---

Perhaps it was an eternity later when they realized how tired they were, leaning heavily against one another.

"I--- I'm sorry, Billy. If you'd told me about any of this before, I would've never let you go," even in the few weeks they'd spent together in the beginning, he would've let him stay. He would've done anything to keep Billy safe. But as time went on, things had only become more difficult, and Steve felt terrible about it.

Billy surprised them both by saying, " _ I know _ ."

That was the last thing Billy said before Steve helped him get to bed, a hand brushing through his hair as he smiled down at Billy. He wanted nothing more than to stay with him and hold him close, but it felt like a boundary he couldn't cross, especially with his parents home. So instead he went to bed in his own room, even if he found it hard to sleep.

\---

Sometime later in the night, Steve found Billy, sat shaking on the floor. His parents were still in the house, so there was no way to distract him like they used to--- but he wouldn't leave him alone, he  _ couldn't _ . Steve didn't say anything as he dropped down and wrapped his arms around Billy. The other only melted into him, the shaking ceasing and the tension dissipating.

And then Steve looked down, into those fire-blue eyes. His breath caught in his throat and for a split second, he felt Billy tense. Raging waves of doubt crashed over Steve's thoughts. He felt like he'd read too much into this, and that he was, once again, being fucking stupid.

But he wasn't, actually. Billy relaxed again, bit his lip, and Steve nearly ascended from the feeling it gave him. He thought back to what he'd told Billy, about how he'd liked him--- about how Billy had replied with  ** _I can't_ ** . He wondered if Billy  _ could _ , now.

"You gonna kiss me, Harrington?" The words were barely there, like a whisper in the wind. Steve didn't know if Billy was being quiet or if he'd gone nearly deaf out of sheer stupidity and panic. Steve kept himself more composed than Billy, who Steve clearly saw to be fearful of the impact his words could have. If Billy struggled hard enough, he could pass it off as a joke, like every other thing he said, but he didn't seem to want to.

And Steve wasn't about to let that look stay on Billy's face, so he leaned in, pressing an experimental kiss to Billy's lips. It was risky territory. Steve had never kissed a guy, and though some part of him thought ' _ it's no different than kissing a girl, dipshit _ ,' he still worried. It wasn't like he could count New Years--- he'd been drunk off his ass. And presently, they were both a step away from panicking. It hardly felt romantic.

But, in a way, it still was that---  _ romantic _ . It wasn't Billy thinking with his dick ( _ which, Steve wondered, if he had done for the entirety of high school _ ), and it wasn't Steve being desperate. The kiss was short and sweet. It didn't last. Billy looked like he was about to cry, and Steve kind of felt the same way. But they both knew it wasn't out of sadness;

it was  _ relief _ .

There were words that wanted to be said, but they weren't ready for those. So instead, Billy leaned back in and stole a few more kisses. Steve was happy just to have Billy's face in his hands, able to finally smooth his thumbs over those cheeks and hold him as tenderly as he'd want to weeks ago. Maybe even  _ months  _ ago.

He felt pure euphoria as he got to bury his face against Billy's neck, pressing light kisses there. They didn't have a lot of time right then, since his parents would be getting up soon, but the minutes they had were good enough.

\---

Billy had felt fearful for what might happen in the living room. Even if Steve had admitted to liking him, a part of him feared it'd just been Harrington being delusional. But he was proven wrong. He felt less like an idiot when Steve tugged him up the stairs and kept going--- straight to his room. He gave Billy a pleading look, the one of a boy who was tired and just wanted comfort. Billy wasn't going to deny him that, since he knew damn well he wasn't going to sleep worth a shit in the guest room.

Maybe he  _ should've  _ brought his stuff into Steve's room. It'd be crowded, but it would've been realistic. Either way, they collapsed into bed as the sun started to come up. That lock Steve had installed months ago had its uses, and Billy didn't feel afraid. He just pressed himself closer to Steve, wrapping his arms around him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Half asleep and full of emotions he didn't quite understand, he found himself murmuring a quiet, " ** _I like you too_ ** ," into Steve's ear. He heard a little laugh and knew it'd been acknowledged, especially when Steve rolled over and nuzzled closer to Billy as they drifted off to sleep.

" _ Thanks for telling me, I was starting to get worried _ ."

Billy's last words were ones he wasn't sure Steve got to hear, but he said them nonetheless;

" ** _I've always liked you, pretty boy_ ** ."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a rough few weeks for me, even if i love this fic it doesn't change my own issues with mental illness. i do intend to finish it, 100%, and i have it well planned out, but often times i feel hopeless and it's hard for me to continue writing when i feel that way. but i want to thank those who were there for me and give another hearty thank you to the friends and readers who've waited so long for updates for this fic! this chapter marks a point of happiness for billy and steve, and for the most part the angst will dwindle and we'll be focused on recovery and a happy ending. if you're reading this and it's after 3/14/2020, i am still working on this, i promise you, i've just had an incredibly hard few months. i love this work with my whole heart, i just need time to finish it.


	14. Side B, It's Alright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha its me uhhhhh, dyslexic bitch. anyway, hello everyone!! it's been so long since i last updated. i've had a really taxing few months, and it's been so so hard to get here, but i'm proud to say i've finished this fic. with this update you will see all of the remaining chapters. but also, i have rewritten the majority of this fic--- no huge changes, but there are bits and pieces i've added, as i felt it lacked depth. after months of writing for tommy, i really wanted him to be included, even if minimally. i've also added my boyfriend mj's ocs in, and i'm very grateful to him for always supporting this fic and helping me so much with my mental health. if you're coming back to this fic after its hiatus, it may already be a good decision to reread prior chapters, but even if you've read this recently, there's some changes you may not want to miss out on!

That night, Billy woke up crying. He didn't scream, not like he had in the first days of being there all those months ago, but Steve still woke up, hearing quiet, sad noises beside him. He realized they'd never slept together before, and Steve tiredly wondered how often this happened for Billy.

In all the months he'd spent near Billy, he'd rarely, if ever, seen him without all his clothes on. A harsh contrast to before Starcourt; even when he got sick and feverish, he at least kept a long-sleeved shirt on. Steve wasn't even sure of the extent of the scarring that Billy had, but as he wormed closer to him, he started to get an idea of it.

His hand hit the bare flesh of Billy's arm, and he felt the raised skin that was there. His eyebrows furrowed as he let his hand wander up Billy's arm, only realizing what he was doing when he felt Billy tense.

"Shit--- sorry," Steve was quick to apologize, but Billy didn't move or say anything. Taking a gamble, Steve settled back down and inched closer, until Billy leaned back into him. They didn't say anything else, but the crying slowed down and Billy eventually drifted back to sleep, restful until morning.

It was a little scary, but he was willing to learn. He was being given the chance he'd dreamt of, and he wasn't about to let it go without a fight. Something about waking up next to Billy made him feel alive, made him feel a confidence he'd never had before--- and he'd never forget just how beautiful Billy Hargrove looked, with morning sun streaming through the window, flooding over him and making him even more gorgeous than he already was. Steve couldn't help but think about how Billy would only look better and better, that soon his skin would be tan and he'd have that trademark  _ Billy Hargrove _ smirk again.

The quiet, " _ morning, Steve _ ," paired with a sleep-lazy smile was just the cherry on top.

\---

The peace wasn't superficial by any means, but not all of Billy's issues had miraculously disappeared. He felt a bone deep exhaustion weighing him down, and it was like nothing could fix it. Steve tried to coax him into showering, eating, doing  _ anything _ , really, but he ended up holed away in Steve's room, curled up under a few blankets and struggling to keep himself calm.

No matter how peaceful things were on the surface, Billy couldn't think straight or stop shaking. He just wanted something familiar. A cup of coffee, since he was out of smokes, and he knew Steve wouldn't let him near any booze. Probably thought Billy didn't notice when he'd shoved a six pack with a missing beer into the arms of a very confused Dustin.

"Drink it, I don't care. Just get it outta here." Hearing the hurt and worry in Steve's voice felt good, in a twisted way. It made Billy realize just how much of a shit he gave about him, and it made him feel a little more safe. Billy was hurting, in a lot of ways; he ached without the pills, and he couldn't sleep anymore. The dark circles framing his dull blue eyes told that story well enough. He didn't know how much he'd slept in the last week, but he'd take a bet and say it was a tenth of what he actually needed.

He proved himself right when he couldn't even hold a mug; it slipped from his fingers and shattered against the tile of Steve's kitchen, making Billy freeze in place. Steve was upstairs, but he didn't play his music loud anymore, he always had it low. Always low enough to hear whatever was going on. He could hear as Steve came down the stairs three at a time, if Billy was any judge of the thudding he heard.

Billy was terrified. Neil was miles away and in a whole other house, and all Billy Hargrove could hear was him  _ screaming _ .

"Billy? You okay? Did you hurt yourself? Steve was doting on him, but Billy's eyes were glued to the floor, hands still shaking. The coffee had scalded his fingers and feet on the way down, a puddle of now-cooled coffee at his feet. He couldn't move and he felt numb.

"Okay, hey, can you step back? Do it carefully." Steve meant well when he tried to touch Billy's arm, in some valiant attempt at guiding him away from the shards of porcelain, but all it did was make him flinch. Jump, almost away, if not for Steve panicking and grabbing him by his shirt, trying to avoid him cutting his feet. It only made things worse.

"I--- I'm sorry," it was like a plea, made as he felt panic hammer his throat shut, like he couldn't breathe anymore. Steve had gotten him away from the danger of stepping on any shards, but it came at a price; he was  _ terrified _ .

"No--- hey, hey. It's okay," Steve swallowed, his grip loosening, becoming something gentle as a soft look swept over his features.

\---

"I swear--- I'm not mad. It's fine." He obviously had to think his next words over, and he carefully added, "I'm not gonna hurt you." It was said so quietly and sweetly, just gentle enough that Billy didn't flinch. Steve hated having to say that, as if he'd  _ ever  _ consider hurting Billy.

Billy's eyes were expressive in a way he otherwise couldn't be. Thick eyelashes did little to hide the things he said with his eyes. And right now, he looked scared. It broke Steve's heart to finally be able to look so deeply into his eyes, only to see terror in them. He knew deep down that it wasn't his fault. If he had to give a name to the problem, it was Neil Hargrove, or the Mindflayer. But it still ate at him to see Billy look at him like that.

He wasn't the one who'd done this to Billy. He wasn't the one who'd hurt him.

\---

Somehow, Billy felt it'd be better if he would hurt him. It was all laughable. Just over a year ago they would've put each other in the ground over something like this. He wasn't used to this--- he wasn't used to the  _ kindness _ that Steve showed him. It easily overwhelmed him, made him hit a boiling point.

He looked into Steve's big brown eyes and felt something break, his legs shaking as swallowed down the lump in his throat. He was finally ready to admit something; 

"I didn't--- I didn't want you to find me," Billy felt the tears still trickling down his cheeks, as Steve pulled away and took one of his hands. He tried to say something else, but instead he let out a sob without even meaning to. Steve only brought him close again, this time urging Billy to lay his head on his shoulder. Despite how awkward it felt, it eased some of the pain Billy felt. He'd felt so fucking awful for Steve having to find him, not just at the barn but also when he'd crashed the Camaro.

But Steve, like a saint blessed with the virtue of patience, didn't reprimand him or show any sign of disappointment. "I know, Billy," Steve's voice was soft, but full of pain. He didn't want to lie and say Billy was  _ safe, _ because he couldn't make promises like that, not with Neil Hargrove out there somewhere. But he did say, "maybe it's selfish, but I'm glad you're still here," and he sniffled, tears threatening to fall as he pulled away, looking at Billy.

Billy looked at him with a still-sad but contemplative look, which soon became something softer. He rested his forehead against Steve's and reached up with a shaky hand to wipe at the lone tear that had started to drip down his cheek.

It's the polar opposite of what he'd said only a few minutes ago, but he quietly said, "thanks for finding me, Bambi. Even if I didn't want you to see that shit," Billy's smile was very small, and very fragile, but it gave Steve some kind of hope.

"Hope you stay with me this time, hotshot," Steve pressed a gentle kiss to Billy's hand before it was out of reach, and then smiled, the kind of smile that would make Billy's heart skip a few beats.

"Yeah. I think we make a pretty good duo, amigo," Billy teased him, still shaken up, but at least able to focus on something else. When he spared a glance to the broken mug on the floor, Steve pulled away.

"Let me take care of that," is what he said, but what it sounded like was,  _ 'let me take care of  _ ** _you_ ** _ '. _

And, for once, Billy didn't argue with it.

\---

The next day or two was tense, making things harder for Steve as he tried to shield Billy from his parents' displeasure. He didn't care how they felt, really--- he only cared about Billy being safe. Right now, he was actually grateful for his parents being chronically unavailable, because one day, his parents were gone by the time they got up; it gave them some time to themselves, letting Steve coax Billy downstairs so he could eat something. He knew it was a lot to hope for, but he wanted Billy to get some food into him--- he'd barely eaten since arriving, and Steve suspected it was because he was too nervous to eat with his parents. He didn't blame him for feeling that way, but it didn't change that he was worried.

"Come on, baby," he tested the waters by using a pet name, a gentle hand rubbing Billy's back as he settled him at the kitchen table. "Just eat what you can?" He knew he was begging, but he couldn't bear to see Billy so sickly. It seemed to work well enough, since Billy relented and ate some of the scrambled eggs and toast he'd made.

"You don't have to baby me," Billy grumbled, though he had a faint blush on his cheeks. Steve couldn't help the stupid smile that came to his lips, because he found himself adoring Billy more as time went on.

"No, but I want to take care of you, Billy," he was quiet as he said it, a fond look on his face as he sat next to Billy, bumping their knees together. "I mean it," he added, just to ease any worries Billy had, bringing an arm around him and resting his head on Billy's shoulder.

"You're a damn mom, Harrington," he sounded as fond as Steve looked, and Steve couldn't help but smile even bigger as he pressed a kiss to Billy's shoulder.

"I'm proud of it, too." He hadn't been, for a while, but he was letting himself slide into the role he liked the most. He wanted to care for people--- people beyond Billy Hargrove, at that, and he wasn't ashamed of it, not anymore.

Billy let out a little laugh, sounding more like himself. He still looked tired, worn down and hurt, but when he finished his food, he still turned to Steve and stole a very quick kiss. It made Steve's heart soar, until Billy broke the moment by shoving him away and telling him that they had dishes to do.

He knew he couldn't expect intimacy right away, that a kiss like that and an abrupt means of playing it off as casual was just how Billy coped--- so he still had that goofy smile stuck on his face, and he could've sworn he saw Billy blush when he noticed it, too.

\---

Over the next few days, he saw more of Billy come back. Snarkier responses and more exaggerated expressions, even if he flashed a paranoid look every now and then. Billy, for better or for worse, was an asshole, but he didn't have to be an insufferable one.

It took a little while for Billy to feel confident enough to have visitors--- but all of them were willing to wait. Billy seemed utterly shocked by the amount of people who'd begun to care for him. When Billy felt up to it, Robin and Laurie came over--- even going so far as to cancel their plans to spend time with them both. They all seemed happy enough to spend time together, and it was nice. Dustin also stopped by that Friday, insisting that Billy take a radio to have as his own. 

Steve could've sworn Billy was about to cry when he was handed it. It was touching. And as far as Steve was concerned, it was just what Billy had needed. Maybe it was tough, since his parents were there and gave them scathing looks every now and then, but it was so much better than being apart.

Steve had his doubts, though. Billy had opened up new doors in their relationship, allowed Steve to hug him or kiss him with no repercussions, although he rarely did either of those things. But Steve wondered if what they had was something he could keep, or if it was something that he'd lose. He couldn't bear the thought of repeating what he and Nancy had had. The idea made his skin crawl.

But he didn't want to be a burden to Billy either, so he didn't say anything. Ironically, Nancy even visited them, just before they were about to leave to go to Dustin's house for Sunday dinner. Steve's parents were still a bit miffed about that, but in Steve's defense, he'd committed to the plans before he remembered they were coming home.

"Hey," Nancy greeted them both as they left the house. She had a few movies in hand, ones that Mike had borrowed sometime in the last week. "I just--- mom wanted me to invite you guys over for dinner. The kids are coming, too. It'll be on Saturday, if you want to come," she looked awkward, and Steve wondered if she'd volunteered or been forced to give the invitation.

"Yeah. Sure, we'll go if we can make it. That okay with you?" Steve looked to Billy once he realized that he'd agreed. He was on autopilot and didn't really think it through. Fortunately, Billy only shrugged and looked neutral about it.

"S'fine with me," Billy said, letting go of Steve's hand and going to get into the car. Steve had forgotten that they'd even been holding hands, it had just felt so natural.

"I don't want it to be awkward," Nancy explained, in a very Nancy-like way. She seemed to be trying to be considerate, as she obviously sensed some kind of tension in this situation.

"I think we'll be okay, Nance. We're on our way to Dustin's, so I'll see you later," he had turned to join Billy in his car, but he felt Nancy grab his hand. He turned to look at her with a blink.

"I'm--- I'm happy he's safe, Steve. I know he means a lot to you. I hope you two stay safe. If you ever need anything, you know..." She trailed off, frowning. They hadn't spoken much recently, but Steve still knew that if something happened, she'd be one of the first people he called, for better or for worse.

"Yeah. I know. We're always here for each other," even if it didn't always feel that way; he was, at least, happy that she seemed supportive of him and Billy--- though he wasn't entirely sure of whether or not she knew of the true nature of their relationship. Then again, Steve wasn't so sure, either.

"We can hang out sometime. Maybe we'll all watch a movie on Saturday," she smiled genuinely and patted his arm, letting his hand go and heading in to drop the tapes off. It was a nice exchange, though when he sat next to Billy, the blond looked a little wary.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. What was that about?"

"Nothing," he paused, "she's a nice girl, Billy. Even if..." He trailed off, frowning. "She's just--- she's not  _ bad _ . And she seems to trust you now," as if that would make Billy like her any more. But he at least didn't seem as tense.

"She seems alright," Billy let the subject drop with a grumble and Steve smiled slightly at the borderline  _ compliment  _ that was given to Nancy. It was more than he would've asked for. Really, it was only recently that he'd realized  _ why  _ Billy had been so heated about Nancy in past situations---

It was because he  _ had  _ liked him for a long time. If someone had treated Billy like that, Steve would've probably been a little mad, too. Nancy had her reasons for what she'd done, and it was complicated, but it didn't change that she'd hurt him. Or that Billy was, apparently,  ** _protective_ ** .

"You're really cute when you get like that."

"Like what, Harrington?"

"I don't know. Worried about me? About  _ us _ ?" He didn't get to keep his gaze on Billy as he spoke, but when they got to a stoplight, he glanced over. Billy had a blush on his face, which wasn't what Steve expected. 

"Don't look at me like that," Billy mumbled, arms crossed as he glared out the window.

"Like I said, pretty  _ cute _ ."

\---

It felt ironic that the first peaceful night they had was shattered immediately by the sudden reappearance of Susan and Max. They'd called during dinner at the Henderson's, and then promptly showed up in their driveway not long after. While it was a relief that they were okay and hadn't  _ abandoned _ Billy, it was also something that made Billy tense, eager to hide behind Steve and avoid whatever was about to happen. Steve could understand why; even if Susan had not wronged him, she had also stood by as her step-son was hurt. He couldn't imagine there being a lot of trust between them.

"I know that right now, it's better for him to be with you. If you can have him," Susan seemed antsy, and Steve could guess  _ why _ . "We're staying at a motel, outside of town. We're trying to find my---  _ Neil _ ," she then explained that he wasn't her husband--- or he wouldn't be, as soon as she could get the papers in order. She'd gone to her parents, to seek out help with finding a lawyer and getting a loan from them. As much as it benefited Billy and Max, the two of them disbanded from the conversation and Max seemed to have a serious talk with her brother, just out of earshot.

Steve was sure to tell Susan that if she had any trouble, she could call him anytime. He didn't know how insane Neil was, or to what lengths he'd go to to make everything into a complete shitshow, but he wouldn't put anything past him. He decided to not mention that he'd beat Neil up only a little while ago.

"I don't mean to be a bother, Steve... but could you help by taking Billy to his appointments? I've called the doctors and told them about the situation--- they should let you. Neil... he never remembered when they were," and, Steve had the feeling that Neil had missed more than one check-up, too. He didn't need Susan to say it for it to be clear. But at least it was a slight comfort, a possibility of peace. It also was a relief to hear that Neil was likely in the town over, laying low at a friend's house.

As far as Susan and Max knew, Billy's little hospital escapade was to do with reckless driving, not being suicidal. He didn't have the heart to tell either of them otherwise, though he caught a very sad look in Max's eyes by the time they were all done talking. It wasn't his place to tell them, either, but he had a feeling Billy would, eventually. At least Steve had the comfort of knowing that Billy could be taken care of, now. And he assured Susan of it being no problem, in fact he was very enthusiastic. He caught Billy with a silly smile at some point, him obviously being amused by Steve's clumsily outgoing nature. All in all, he didn't think it went badly.

\---

Max and Susan hadn't stuck around for long--- by the time they were done talking, Dustin had gathered a few of the nerds and they, however briefly, celebrated Max's return. It was nice to see all the kids together again, but Steve had to say his goodbyes early, and commit to driving an obviously panicked Billy home.

Not soon after, they were back at Steve's; his parents gone, still out to dinner, and leaving them some all too precious time alone.

"You okay, Billy?" Steve knew the answer--- that he was  _ far _ from okay--- but he tried to use it as a means of opening up conversation. He'd always been pretty awkward about this stuff, but he didn't want Billy to suffer alone. Not anymore.

All Billy could do was shake his head, but it was a response enough. Steve took his hand and lead him to the living room, urging him to sit down.

"This is good--- Susan's gonna get everything figured out," Steve was trying to convince himself of that, too, but Billy had a blank expression, asides from the tension obviously running rampant throughout his whole body.

"What would stop him?" He asked, out of nowhere, and Steve blinked.

"What do you mean?" Steve asked it quietly, eyebrows furrowed.

  
"Would--- would fuckin' court orders stop him? If he really wanted to do shit?" Billy bit his lip,  _ hard _ . He couldn't look at Steve, no matter how hard Steve tried to get him to make eye contact. "It's just---  _ paperwork _ , Steve. How's that gonna stop him?" Billy's voice broke, and he was shaking, tears welling up in his eyes as he clasped his hands together, no longer letting Steve touch him.

"Billy---" Steve was cut off, and he frowned.

"What if--- what if my mom  _ is _ dead. What if that's why she never--- called? Wrote? We lived in the same fucking place for over ten years, Steve! She never---" his shoulders trembled and he tried to get in a breath, tried to keep from hyperventilating. "What if he did that to her, Stevie?" He sounded broken as he said that, and Steve felt a deep ache in his chest. Billy had never spoken of his mother before, not like this. And Steve, being respectful, hadn't asked--- he didn't want to tear open old wounds. But it didn't seem that they were so old, they were still  _ fresh _ .

"He won't do that to Susan, or Max. Or you, Billy," whereas he had been hesitant to promise that before, he wasn't now. "You've--- you've got people who care about you. All of you. It's gonna be okay," Steve only said that because he  _ knew _ , because he was willing to pay a price for that to be  _ true _ . If Neil  **had** killed Billy's mother, he'd never get the chance to do the same to Susan, let alone Billy or Max. Steve was hardened, after years of tragedy and turmoil; if he had to, he'd kill to keep his loved ones safe, and he knew he wasn't the only one who'd protect them, either.

"How do you know that?" Billy sounded bitter, and Steve didn't blame him.

"Because, I won't let it happen," Steve sounded confident, enough that it made Billy's anger and grief dwindle, and he stared at him with furrowed brows.

"I mean it, Billy. Susan's--- she's gonna get those papers. She's gonna get divorced. She'll have a life without him. So will you," Billy wasn't a child anymore, he didn't have to listen to Neil. 

\---

Billy didn't want to feel like he was dependent on anyone, but with Steve, he felt safe. He felt like maybe he'd get through this, that for the first time in his life, maybe he had a  _ home _ . It was more than he ever could've asked for, and it made him feel more emotional.

After years of being unable to express himself, of hiding away everything he'd ever felt--- the last few weeks had been intense, making him jumpy and prone to breakdowns. But Steve didn't judge him, he just tried to soothe him out of his anxiety. He'd never been one to take deep breaths. felt like it was useless. But somehow, Steve coaching him encouraged him to do it--- and surprise surprise, it worked. Maybe only because Steve's hand was on his arm, but it worked one way or another.

"We'll be okay," Steve said it, and made it sound like a promise he'd never break. Eventually, Billy decided to believe him, and he let out a breath he'd been holding in, his shoulders slumping as he sank down against Steve. Steve wrapped an arm around him, squeezing him tight and resting his chin on top of Billy's head. 

This felt less like an end, and more like a beginning. As much as Billy had always fought against the feelings churning in his gut, he couldn't look at Steve and deny it anymore; they cared about each other, and there was something beautiful in that, even if not everyone could see it.

"When'd you become the King again, Stevie?" Billy's voice was quiet, and he played with the frayed threads of Steve's sweater.

"Never was one. Maybe I'm more like, a knight," Steve mused, playing with Billy's hair with his free hand, smiling to himself. Billy couldn't see that smile, but it was almost like he could hear it.

"Yeah. Maybe you are," with the way he protected the kids--- protected Billy, and everyone else, Steve was a guardian, often unappreciated. "Knight in a fucked up Beemer."


	15. Side B, The Edge Of Forever

Steve was relieved when the date for Billy's appointment came up, because it meant he could finally get whatever he needed. With Neil's poor care making him worse, and the aftermath of the crash, Steve knew he likely needed more medicine, and definitely needed a check-up. 

It was oddly intimate, despite the setting. Steve offered to leave the room when Billy was told to take his shirt off, but even if Billy was tense, he simply shook his head. Steve tried not to stare when he saw the extent of Billy's scarring, like vines wrapped around his chest, stars bursting on his sides and arms. That was just from the Mindflayer; there were also scars from the accident, and from what Steve assumed were incidents with Neil.

He didn't have to assume for long, though.

Billy went more into depth, over each scar, each bruise that was left. He spoke about how Neil had rarely given him his medicine, and had flushed the majority of it. The doctor was impressed that Billy was doing so  _ well _ given the circumstances, and Steve was relieved to know that regardless of his mistreatment, Billy would make a strong recovery. He was resilient, in the kind of way that made Steve wary; it made him worried, that maybe these doctors would find a fascination with him, and how he survived.

He'd be willing to fight against Billy becoming a guinea pig, if the time came for it. But for now, he was prescribed pain medicine, and advised to go to therapy regularly. Steve was told that he was in charge of Billy's medication, and that Billy had to be watched carefully. In addition to that, Billy would need a proper diet and to increase his level of physical activities, in order to get healthier. Billy himself seemed rather resigned to this, almost relieved--- perhaps it was freeing, somehow, since at the very least, he would be cared for. He wouldn't be hurt.

"You really wanna do this?" Billy asked, when they left the appointment. Steve gave him a look, like he'd grown another head.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I?" He'd wanted nothing more than to help Billy--- and strange as it was, Billy wasn't hard to take care of, not when he had the means to do it.

"Dunno. Just..." Billy shrugged his shoulders, rubbing at his arm. He hadn't really looked Steve in the eye since they'd been in the examination room. Once they got back into the car, he seemed a little more comfortable.

"I  _ want _ to help, Billy," and Steve reminded him, that he'd helped Will, too. He wasn't just doing this because he  _ liked _ Billy. He was doing it because he felt it was the right thing to do. Steve wanted to take care of people, especially those he already cared about.

"Not that hard, I guess. Give me medicine. Make sure I eat. Kinda like babysitting," Billy sounded like he found more humor in it than anything else, and wasn't self-conscious, which made Steve smile as he turned the key and heard the BMW sputter its way to life.

"Yeah. Y'know, I'm one Hell of a babysitter," Steve boasted, smiling brightly, and finally, Billy looked at him. Mostly just to laugh at him, because he looked ridiculous.

"Laugh all you want, but it's true. Who else could deal with those shitheads?" Steve laughed a little too, though. 

"You're so lame," was said fondly, and Steve couldn't take it to heart. Instead, he put the radio on, and stole a glances at Billy every now and then, catching glimpses of little smiles here and there.

\---

"So, are you guys dating?" Robin asked it, as Steve sat against the counter at the video store. Billy had convinced him he'd be fine, that he could be left alone. Steve had agreed to go back to work, because truthfully--- he needed the money, to save, to have on hand,  _ just in case _ . And as kind as Keith had been, he didn't want to abuse the generosity and lose his job.

"I don't know," Steve admitted, chewing on his lip. Their shift had just ended, and Steve was holding Billy's medicine in his hand, rubbing at the label with his thumb. One of the other conditions of going to work was that he would take Billy's painkillers with him.

It was a question he'd had on his mind for a bit now. He didn't want to push labels onto what they had, but he hoped they  _ were _ dating. If Robin could call Laurie her girlfriend, even if only in private and with people she trusted, Steve wanted to do the same.

"I think I'll wait for him to bring it up," Steve decided, sighing after he committed to that idea. Robin patted his shoulder, wishing him luck--- but she didn't seem to hold any hard feelings towards Billy. Not everyone was ready to jump into these things, and Billy'd had a rough go at verything so far.

Steve just hoped that maybe, someday, he'd feel more comfortable. And maybe they'd have a conversation about it all.

\---

_ Someday _ happened sooner than he'd anticipated. When he got home, Billy was in a fairly amicable mood; maybe that had more to do with Steve's parents being absent, than anything else, but it put a smile on Steve's face, at least.

Before he knew it, he'd been dragged to the living room, and into a make-out session. Billy had slowly become rather affectionate, more and more, over the last week or so. And Billy was a lot softer than he'd anticipated, gentle as he pressed a hand to Steve's cheek, staring into his eyes with a strange but loving look about himself. It was better than he'd imagined, as heard Billy quietly ask,

"so--- we're... are we... together?"

"I'm yours, if you want me."

" _ If _ I want you?"

"Yeah," Steve didn't feel too nervous as he gazed into Billy's ocean blue eyes. He could get lost in his gaze, and he just might.

"I want you," Steve wondered if Billy's heart soared like his did, "always have," and then Steve felt choked up, eyes watering. Evidently, Billy saw that despite how hard he tried to hide it. "Don't get too sappy on me, Steve," it was a fake warning, because Billy's eyes were watering, too. 

\---

"You know--- I'm not doing this and expecting anything. I'm doing this because I care," Steve had a hand pressed to his chest as he said that, and a laugh bubbled up to the surface.

"You're such a fucking idiot, Harrington. I--- I've liked you a lot longer than you've liked me. This isn't charity."

Billy had never been good at eye contact, not when it was with someone like Steve--- because  _ someone like Steve _ was someone he didn't want to disappoint. It made him nervous and a little jumpy, and also stupid, too. "Do you remember New Years?" He blurted the question out, fidgeting a bit and almost immediately regretting it.

"Been on my mind for months," Steve admitted, looking down. "I couldn't stop thinking about you," it sounded like a sad admittance, and Billy felt his heart ache. He hadn't known just how much Steve had wanted him, and now he felt guilty.

"I was scared. I didn't--- I didn't want you to get hurt. Not after all the shit you did for me," Billy sighed, looking away. "Didn't want you to pity me, either," he said that quietly, frowning.

"I care about you, Billy. So do the kids. I---" He heard a sigh from Steve. "Most of 'em know, about how I feel about you. I... was really messed up when you were gone, you know? When I couldn't see you," he heard Steve's voice crack, and he looked up to see Steve wiping at a few stray tears.

"I'm sorry," he was so used to apologizing, he couldn't stop himself from saying it. The smile on Steve's face totally confused him, but he didn't shy away when Steve put a hand on his cheek.

"No--- it... it wasn't your fault. I'm... I'm mad at myself, for not helping."

"I didn't let you," Billy offered, making a fair point.

"I should've helped, anyway," Billy let out a deep sigh when he heard that, leaning in to rest his forehead against Steve's.

"You did help. You helped me. Wouldn't be here without you, Bambi," Billy took a hold of Steve's hand, closing his eyes and drinking in the peaceful atmosphere. "Wish I'd never beaten you up. I liked you so much, pretty boy," Billy sighed again, opening his eyes again, seeing just how emotional Steve looked.

"I didn't know," Steve said softly, squeezing Billy's hand. "Thought you hated me," he didn't sound hurt about that, at least.

"I thought I did, too," Billy shook his head, laughing a little. "Wasn't ready to feel shit like this. Didn't think I'd ever be," and then his gaze had slipped lower, to Steve's lips, and he leaned the rest of the way in, pressing their lips together, his eyes fluttering shut.

They'd kissed a few times, by now. They'd made out a bit, too. But it always felt like there were new kisses to be had--- new touches felt. The way Steve brought his hand up to Billy's face, it made him sigh into the kiss, and he felt, finally, like he was where belonged, with Steve Harrington at his side, and soft pink lips kissing him.

He desperately wanted to get used to this.

\---

He felt warm--- a little  ** _fuzzy_ ** , as Steve put an arm around him, ducking his head down to rest it under Billy's chin. It was a bit weird, unlike anything either of them had had before. Maybe Steve and Nancy had cuddled and shit, but it was obviously a show of trust that Steve even considered doing this with Billy. Billy was insecure to say the least, but Steve was on a whole other level of insecurity when it came to this shit.

"This okay?" Steve asked, voice quiet as he reached his free hand over to try and hold Billy's. He wasn't hesitant, but he was slow, giving Billy a chance to move away.

To Billy's credit, he stopped himself from flinching. He froze for a second, but no longer than that. He met Steve's hand halfway and took it. He wasn't used to holding hands, so it was a little awkward, but admittedly he did like the sensation, especially when he settled for running a thumb over the palm of Steve's hand. It was so simple, a thing most people could expect from any partner they had. But between the two of them, it felt new and almost exciting.

" _ Yeah _ . Better than okay, pretty boy."

\---

Months may have passed, but some things didn't feel so different. Billy began going out with Steve again, wandering Hawkins of his own free will, sometimes catching up with Max and Susan as they went through things at the Hargrove house. So far, Neil hadn't been around, and Steve wasn't surprised that he was that much of a coward. It was a comfort, if nothing else.

Rosie visited the video store--- to actually rent a movie, for once, and she and Billy seemed to get along well, now. Steve began to realize that the animosity Billy had had during his time dating Rosie was because he was  _ jealous _ , or maybe  _ sad _ was the better word. But together now, you'd never know it.

"You know, I wasn't always so nice. We've got something in common," Rosie said that to Billy as they all sipped from some beers, sat on the video store floor. They'd closed a half hour ago, and they were all hanging out--- Steve, Billy, Rosie, and Robin. Granted, Billy wasn't drinking beer; he had a coke, but seemed pleased regardless.

"Laurie taught me a lot about that kinda stuff. You'd probably like her," Rosie mused that, and Billy seemed interested. Though Billy had never gotten along well with girls other than coercing them onto dates, he seemed different, now. Maybe because he could be himself. 

"Heather used to always be on my ass for how I acted," Billy said, rather out of nowhere. He'd seldom indulged in speaking on himself, or the people he knew. He especially did not mention Heather, who Steve  _ had _ known. 

"I miss her," Rosie said, frowning. "We weren't like--- best friends, but..." She shook her head, then drank more beer.

"I was--- we were... kind of," Billy's lip wobbled a little, and then he cleared his throat. "We were good friends," is what he decided to say, and Steve saw the tension, the oncoming outburst of emotion. He knew Billy wasn't a fan of others seeing that kind of shit, so Steve brought up that they had to get home soon, and he successfully made an out for them, which Billy seemed grateful for.

\---

Around five minutes into their drive, Billy looked to Steve. They'd come to a stoplight, and Billy still felt overwhelmed by feelings he had yet to process. It'd been close to a year, and everything felt so fresh, like it'd happened yesterday.

"I miss her, you know? I... I miss her a lot," he obviously didn't need to preface that with  _ who _ he missed, because Steve knew, and he gave him a sympathetic look. They hadn't been the best of friends, but Billy had few people he had even  _ called  _ friends. Heather had been nothing but nice to him, and that had been shattered and ripped from when the Mindflayer had taken his shitty life from him.

He'd thought Neil had been oppressive. But actual,  _ physical  _ possession was a whole other debacle. He didn't want to think of it, but his thoughts always went back to it. He figured, that's why he was going to therapy every week.

"Feels like fuckin' forever ago and still like it was  ** _yesterday_ ** ," Billy mused, rubbing his arms, as if he was suddenly cold.

\---

"Yeah," Steve felt that was a lame response, and he swallowed, figuring it was best to open up, too. "I miss Hopper, too," Steve said, looking back to the road and frowning. "It--- it feels like he did things better. You know, he would've helped you.  _ Us _ ," Steve hadn't really mentioned Hopper, because he'd tried hard to  _ forget _ . He counted his blessings that he still had Joyce, that all the kids were okay.

"Wonder if they're proud of us," Billy said, looking out the window.

Steve didn't want to make promises, but he looked over to Billy and said, " _ I'm _ proud of you. So are a lot of people," and he knew it for a fact. Joyce had called more than once, just to speak to Billy--- and Will had sent him letters, as had Jane. They planned to come during the Summer, to visit all their friends. It felt like a beginning to an end, in a way, because though no one had spoken of it, Steve was fairly certain that Susan and Max would be moving.

When Steve remembered that, he looked back to the road, and felt his gut twist. He wondered if Billy would also move with them, but he didn't have the heart to ask. He didn't feel like he could stomach an answer right now. Because he knew that if Billy wanted to go, that was what would be better for him.

But in the end, Steve had no fucking clue of what he was doing.

\---

With a promise of only smoking weed and not drinking, Steve let Billy let loose a little. It wasn't that hard to get weed in Hawkins, anyway--- not when you knew  _ Joel Harper _ , who, Steve was pretty sure, had been stoned since middle school. Not that he could judge; after the shit with the Mindflayer, Steve had smoked pretty heavily for a while. Cigarettes, weed, and drinking--- he'd relied heavily on it all. He was glad he didn't anymore, but it was still nice to have fun, every now and then.

Right now, he was a few beers and a joint into lounging in his living room. He'd convinced Billy to smoke outside at first, but now they were both too lazy to bother with it. They'd come around to talking about aspirations, of all things. It was kind of cool, and the relaxed energy made Steve feel like he was getting to know Billy in a way he hadn't before.

"I wanted to be a mechanic, thought I could be a decent one," Billy said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Maybe restore some cars," he'd helped his friends do that before. A lot of Summers had been spent on that already, with sleepless nights at a friend's house, and long days given to his passion. He'd had friends older and younger than him; most of them had cars thanks to him. They couldn't afford shit, but Billy would hunt through junkyards and haggle for parts they needed. He'd been a damn determined teen. But that was before, back in Cali. As the months had gone on, he thought he'd never see a reason to keep any of his ambitions.

"I just kinda wanna--- do whatever, you know?" Steve had considered stuff, like being a doctor or lawyer; that'd definitely be what his parents wanted. But that was their dream, not his. He didn't think he'd be able to do that, or work with his father, for that matter. He didn't have any real aspirations--- as time went on, he realized he much preferred a role that wasn't designed for him. He liked to be with his family and friends. He liked looking after the kids. He found himself enjoying cooking and cleaning more than working at the video store. Hell, maybe he should actually be a fucking babysitter. It was the only thing he could think of. It was the only passion he had left.

"Should just babysit for a living, Stevie," Billy teased, poking at his side and earning a giggle from Steve, who swatted at his hand. 

"What if I did?" It actually felt like a serious question, and Billy looked up to the ceiling, then back down to his doe-eyed boyfriend.

"Well, you'd be happy, wouldn't you?" Steve didn't know what answer he'd expected, but that made him feel---  _ strange _ . In a good way. In a,  _ now I'm going to kiss you _ , kind of way. So he leaned over, stealing a few kisses as he listened to Billy chuckle.

"Can't be worse than babysitting me. Or working for Keith," Billy pointed that out, a few minutes later, breathless but still laughing a little. 

"Keith's not too bad--- but babysitting  _ you? _ " Steve joked, but didn't have a lot of time to react before Billy lunged at him, slipping his fingers up underneath his shirt, tickling him, making him yelp and squirm.

"Picking Keith over  **me** ? Bitch," though he could hardly breathe thanks to the way he was laughing and yelling for Billy to  _ stop _ , it was nice to see Billy like this, and even through a haze of alcohol and being high, he felt butterflies in his stomach.

"Aw, c'mon, Billy! I can't breathe!" Steve whined, pushing at Billy's face as he came close, though he ultimately ended up with his arms looped around Billy's neck, pulling him in for more kisses. The tickles died down, probably not-so-coincidentally in time with when Billy slipped his tongue into Steve's mouth.

  
At least Steve knew how to get his way.


	16. Side B, Big Love

Though everyone said that Neil had skipped town, likely because he didn't want to deal with the aftermath of whatever Susan would tell the others, it was hard for Max to feel confident or comfortable in Hawkins. She always felt like he was lurking, like he'd come out of nowhere--- she wasn't so much worried for herself as much as  _ Billy _ . Local police had said that they'd be only a call away, but that hardly comforted Max. Her paranoia was proven correct when she came out of the general store and ran directly into him.

"Where is he?" As lacking of grace as ever, Neil was clumsy with his actions, and desperate. Neil had gone past a point, a point where he had promised to never be. Susan had tolerated him, if only because he wouldn't hit or touch Max. His constant demeaning words still hurt, and the abusive behavior still stung, but this was different. Him putting his hands on Max, grabbing her by her shoulder with an iron grasp, it was like being burnt.

But he didn't stop there, and neither did the sick feeling growing in her. Rage cut between the sensation of having his fist twisted around the front of her shirt, and the look in his eyes that said he'd  _ kill  _ Billy, if he found him. It finally made her snap.

She swung her skateboard up, hitting between his legs, letting out a furious scream even after he let go of her. She got a better grip on her skateboard and slammed it down against Neil's back as he crumpled to the pavement. She'd officially caught everyone's attention, but she didn't hesitate to lean closer as she said,

"you leave him the  ** _fuck _ ** alone!" She'd spent years being complacent in his presence, but she wouldn't do it anymore. Billy had paid for every rebellion she'd had, but he wouldn't this time. Not if she had anything to say about it.

She felt no fear for herself, around Neil. But she felt protective, of her mother, and of Billy. "You taught Billy how to shoot a gun, and I  ** _watched_ ** ," her words were venomous as she backed away from him, her fingers tense against her skateboard. "Think about that." The last thing to happen was her spotting the beginnings of Billy's keychain, hanging just barely out of Neil's jacket pocket. She snatched it without thinking, and turned to run back into the general store, calling the police.

Luckily, Neil was apprehended by a shopkeeper, and the police came fast. Susan came out of a nearby store in a panic, wrapping her arms around her daughter, bringing her head to her chest, trying to hide her away from Neil's mindless yelling.

But Max still wasn't afraid. She looked at Neil and felt nothing but happiness, knowing that all he was doing was digging himself a bigger hole. She finally felt herself breathe a sigh of relief when the police handcuffed him and drove away.

She felt like maybe things would get better, now.

\---

With Susan's support, and the obvious uptick in Billy's health, there was no doubt that Neil's  _ care _ was far from that; it was much more like torture. With Neil in limbo at the police station, there was some kind of comfort for Billy, who'd initially reacted poorly to Neil having approached Max. But as Billy adjusted to having proper medications, he seemed to feel much more like himself. He was able to eat, able to think for more than a few seconds at a time, and he was much less anxious.

Meanwhile, Steve's parents weren't so subtle about their distaste for his ongoing presence, not to mention Steve's lack of a desire to go to college, or achieve anything they deemed  _ important _ . Steve knew that  _ they _ knew, about him--- about Billy. It was scary, but he knew his parents would never out him. The Harrington name would be tarnished for good, if they did that. And though they were not very caring, they were prideful, and they'd do anything to keep their image up. So Steve was confident that he could at least move out peacefully. He just hoped that Billy would stay with him.

Which is why he'd started to look for apartments, flipping through the newspaper and the phonebook to call and ask about places. Sometimes he got an amused look from Billy, when he'd balance a pencil on his upper lip and scrunch up his nose.

"What're you doing, Bambi?" He asked, settling down beside him, tilting his head towards the newspaper and slipping an arm around his waist.

"Trying to find a place. I've been saving but I've been buying my own food. Kind of a house rule," it had been since high school ended and his parents went on more trips. Billy felt a bit bad, knowing that now. He'd thought Steve had been living a cushier life than that. But he'd been wasting food on him instead.

"Should be able to get an apartment, though," he didn't mention the fact that he'd been urged to do that because of Billy. It was unspoken but obvious. Billy felt a blush on his face, both from shame and embarrassment. 

Eventually, it was Steve who broke the silence. Mentioning in fuller detail that he was looking for a place for  _ them _ , as if it was a challenge, for Billy to say that he  ** _didn't_ ** want to stay with him. But they both knew he wanted to be with him, that he couldn't live without him, at this point. And Steve's smile every time he points to possible vacancies makes Billy's heart flutter, and feel like maybe it's worth it--- like he can actually have a life beyond all the shit he's dealt with.

\---

Not everything is stressful. In fact, he and Steve find a lot of spare moments to have talks, to just hang around. To be like they were before, listening to music, flipping through magazines---

and talking about high school, apparently. Somehow they'd gotten around to the topic of  _ Tommy _ , Billy trying desperately to insinuate that Tommy had  _ liked _ Steve, with no success in making Steve understand. In a vague attempt to get him to talk more, he decided to lay down some information he didn't _usually_ share.

"Yeah, I kissed Tommy at a party once. Swan almost put his head through the fucking wall," Billy tried to hint at their relationship, though Steve just tilted his head.

"Huh. I mean, they're good friends," he furrowed his brows, obviously not picking up on what Billy was saying.

"You're such an idiot, Harrington."

"What?"

"Good friends?"

"Yeah, like, they've been best friends since I can first remember..."

"It's a little..." As Billy paused, Steve squinted.

"Like us, you know," that seemed to get through to him, and Steve's mouth dropped open for a few seconds as he blinked.

"Really?"

"You're shocked? You seen the way Swan dresses?"

"He's pretty fashionable..." Steve scrunched his nose up, huffing. 

"Yeah. What about you and Tommy, pretty boy? Ever do anything fun?" Billy rolled his eyes and put his head in his hand, watching as the gears turned in Steve's head.

"Tommy and I used to practice kissing with each other... oh," Billy saw the look that developed over his face and patted his back, snickering.

"Uh huh. See what I mean now, Bambi?" Of course, Billy wouldn't have expected so much of Hawkins to be  _ queer _ \--- rather ironic, his father had moved them here to avoid his son being a faggot, to punish him for it, too, and yet he'd ended up saddled with the queerest folk.

"Y--- yeah. I do," Steve sighed dramatically, crossing his arms. "I didn't think a lot about it, before," which didn't shock Billy. As shitty as Steve's parents were, he doubted Steve had been mocked for being too  _ gay _ at any point. He knew Tommy jabbed at people, but all people their age did. Besides, it wasn't like Tommy was on the straight and narrow.

"Wait, are they really together?" Steve asked that after a few seconds, to which Billy laughed.

"Pretty sure," Billy smiled as he responded. "Never asked 'em. But think about it, pretty boy. You ever seen two people act like they do?"

And--- Steve'd known Tommy Hagan for a long time--- some may call them  _ childhood friends _ , but really, Steve would classify Donnie as that, not himself. And when looking between the two, he finally recognizes a lot of his own feelings. The soft way Tommy smiles at Donnie, how it melts away at his hostility and all he can do is gaze up at him, like he's his whole world. He'd never seen Tommy look so happy before, not since they were all kids, and now he wondered, how long had Tommy been in love? Had he felt the same insecurities that plagued Steve right now?

Of course, some things never change, and Tommy would always scowl when he caught sight of Steve looking at him, if he did it for too long. Donnie would roll his eyes, and Steve would be well aware of how he was far from Donnie's  _ favorite _ person. He'd been a victim of Donnie's bullying ever since he'd fallen down the social ladder, but he'd never felt particularly  _ bad _ towards him.

He'd seen how Tommy and Billy had acted, and in retrospect, he wondered if they had been together, too. But they weren't anything like Donnie was with Tommy; not soft touches and sweet looks. Admittedly, he'd never paid much attention to Donnie and Tommy's relationship, because by the time he was close to Tommy, Donnie was off doing his own thing. He wasn't so sure that was a choice he'd wanted to make, though. It seems like they'd all changed, for better or for worse, during their teens. Steve's still trying to scrape his life back together, to make something where it felt like there'd been nothing. He thinks that maybe that's also what other people are doing, too.

"No," Steve finally said, contemplative as ever. "Does--- does that mean you and Tommy...?" Steve wasn't jealous, but he was curious, wondering if he'd overstep a boundary by asking. Evidently, he didn't, because Billy just got a  _ look _ about himself. Sort of sentimental.

"Not sure, Stevie," Billy did seem raw as he admitted that, more than once, he'd gone to Tommy for support--- Tommy had been the only person he'd trusted in Hawkins, for a long time. "Maybe we both had somethin' with Tommy, but I don't think he wanted anyone other than Swan," he didn't sound upset about that, he just shrugged. "It's not so bad to be talking to him again. He's a lot nicer with Swan on his heels," Billy did have a point there, though. Tommy had always been kindest when with Donnie.

"I guess you're right," Steve agreed, nodding his head. He couldn't help but wonder if things would've been different--- if he'd noticed Tommy's feelings, or if Tommy and Billy had become something. But he's pretty happy where he is, so he doesn't bother to think much on it. He just smiles, and takes Billy's hand, even if Billy complains about him being  _ sappy _ .

\---

"You know, now that you've got the Camaro back, you could go to the mechanic I know," with Max having gotten the keys to the Camaro back from Neil, they could finally check on it. After it had been towed back to the Hargrove's, it had barely been touched--- it needed some work, but Billy was optimistic. Enough that he mentioned it to Laurie, who suggested a mechanic she thought highly of.

"I--- I guess we could have it towed there," Billy seemed anxious, but Steve just gently took his hand. Since going through the house, Billy had found the remainder of his saved money, and hopefully it'd cover whatever expenses the Camaro had. Even if it didn't, Steve would pitch in, no questions asked. Though the Camaro may have been almost a means to Billy's end, it was also a token of freedom, something that'd always mean a lot to Billy--- thus it meant a lot to Steve, too.

"Laurie's got a good judge of character," Robin said, grinning at her girlfriend and stealing a quick kiss. They were all outside the mall, having just gone to a movie--- it was deserted, which meant they could be casually affectionate, if they were careful.

"He's nice. You'll like him," Laurie smiled, reassuring him of that.

  
Though, in the end, Billy didn't see much of the person who helped to fix the Camaro. It was hard to look at the car, to remember everything that'd happened--- so when Steve surprised him by driving it home one day, he was ecstatic, though also shocked. Again, it seemed that Tommy and Donnie had been recruited, so Steve's BMW could be brought back to the house. Only with the promise over ordering pizza and tipping him handsomely, though.

  
"You better tip me this weekend, big time, Harrington," Tommy said that when he got out of Steve's car, eyeing the Camaro and then glancing at Billy. "It'll be good to see you around in it again," he sounded much less combative when he said that, and he patted Billy's back, even if it was a little awkward. Then he slipped into Donnie's car, and even as Billy went over to the Camaro, he could hear Tommy and Donnie bickering over what music to put on.

"Looks good as new, huh, Bills?" Steve patted the side of the Camaro, which had a fresh coat of paint on it--- not something he'd anticipated, and definitely something Steve had paid for. "You wanna drive her?" Steve didn't move from the drivers seat, yet, which was a good decision, as Billy said,

"no--- could... could you drive us around?" It wasn't that he didn't want to take a ride--- he  _ did _ . But the last time he'd been in it, it hadn't ended well. It's probably why Steve had stayed in his seat, to allow Billy the chance to reunite with his car while also feeling safe.

"Yeah. C'mon," Steve leaned over, to open the passenger side door, beaming as Billy got into the car. It wasn't immediate, but after a few miles, once they hit the back roads, a light came into Billy's eyes. He thought this was worth it all--- paying extra for the paint, taking off work early--- getting on the back roads when they were empty, so he could speed down them, the windows open, Billy's curls whipping around in the wind as they flew down the road.

He had to admit, the Camaro was pretty fun to drive.

What was more fun was when Billy got behind the wheel and said,  _ I'm gonna take you for a real ride, Harrington. _

\---

Fingers ran through his hair. The last time someone had done that, it'd been Max, as she cradled him in the bathroom, months ago. The action felt foreign, almost lost on him. But not quite. He was enjoying it, even if it took some adjusting.

" _ Hey _ ," Steve said, smiling down at him. It was unfamiliar territory to be this close to anyone----  ** _fucking _ ** was one thing, but looking up at a guy while resting your head on his chest, well. That was something else.  _ It was something vulnerable. _

Instead of speaking, Billy turned his head to catch Steve's hand, pressing a kiss to the palm of it. Steve's attention went from Billy's hair to his face, and Steve gently brushed his fingers over his cheeks. The exchange made Billy feel butterflies in his stomach,  _ which was insane _ , he'd always thought people were stupid for saying that kind of shit--- or that they were straight up lying.

He'd never have thought he'd be here, in Steve Harrington's lap, on Steve Harrington's couch, in Steve Harrington's house. He also wouldn't have anticipated the gentle but adamant kisses that were spread all over his face. Billy couldn't help but laugh a bit at how ridiculous it all was.

"What're you doing?" He asked, trying, with low effort and no success, to push Steve's face away from him. Steve only kissed his hand and up his arm in response.

"What I've wanted to do for a while," was the soft response he got. Something about that made Billy's breath get caught in his throat.

"Damn," Billy was at a loss for any other words. He knew he looked like an idiot, staring into Steve's puppy dog eyes, but he couldn't stop. He remembered New Years like it was yesterday; he felt the ghost of Steve's lips on his whenever he thought about it too much. He wondered if Steve remembered those kisses as well as he did. If Steve had felt the pent up emotion he'd put into it.

He realized he could do the same now, sober, too. It took a few seconds, but he shifted, put both of his hands on Steve's face, and brought him in for the kind of kiss he'd been craving.

It felt different than before, but in the best way. He could  _ feel  _ Steve, and he knew that Steve wanted this. It wasn't a gamble, where he prayed that alcohol would save him from embarrassment. The soft noises that Steve made only fueled his desires, encouraging him to take a chance by running his tongue along the crease of Steve's plush lips.

Steve tasted better than anything else. Billy could swear that he'd get drunk just off his damn lips and stupid mouth. He'd made out before, but Christ, he'd never felt like this. He'd never clutched at a guy's shirt, desperate for a closeness that wasn't even achievable. When he felt Steve rest his hands on his hips, Billy let out the most embarrassing moan. It gave Steve a reason to break their kiss and smirk.

So, maybe it'd been a while. He'd probably made it pretty fucking clear--- no one had touched him since Starcourt. He'd tried, a few times, to distract himself with somebody else, but he found himself unable to find peace in being physical with other people. At least, until now. 

"Fuck off," Billy felt his cheeks burn and he was half tempted to get off Steve--- but then, even when he'd only moved slightly, Steve pulled him back in.

"You're cute," the words made him feel mad  _ and  _ flattered. Another amazing feat from Steve Harrington.

"Shut the fuck up---" His words were muffled by the sweet kiss that Steve pressed to his lips. It was less heated than before, but held a lot of affection in it. Billy couldn't put a name to the feeling it gave off, especially so since he didn't want to say that it was  _ love _ . Steve didn't linger in the kiss, instead ending it and burying his face against Billy's neck, taking a deep, calmed breath.

His guts twisted as he came to the realization that this felt like  _ home. _

\---

The time it had taken to get the restraining order against Neil--- not just for Susan and Max but Billy as well--- felt like an eternity. But with Neil having assaulted Max, it escalated the situation, and made it easier to get what they needed. Neil was even going to be jailed, only for a few months--- but it was a small comfort amongst a lot of anxiety.

Susan wasn't going to keep the house; she planned to move to an apartment, a fresh start. The house held a lot of pain in it, and was practically in ruin, anyway. Billy knew how hard it had been for the kids to adapt to Will's absence, because Steve had spoken of it a few times--- so it was a relief that Susan had decided to move close to the police station, while Neil would likely go to live in another state, when he got out. Not that he was allowed near them, legally.

Not everything was perfect. Susan only intended to stay until the end of Max's school year, a few weeks into Summer, and then she'd move them both to their grandparents, where it was safer and better for them. 

So now, here they were, at a precipice. One Mayfield and one Hargrove. Steve had left them to their privacy, though he'd looked wary, like a mother bear separated from her cub. It was comforting, but Billy didn't need him--- not right now. He needed to have this conversation himself. Max had also taken her leave, and for what felt like the first time, it was just him and Susan.

"Billy... I know... I know I should've done better. You're still my son. I'm so sorry," Susan had tears in her eyes as she spoke, and Billy knew her feelings were genuine.

"I know," Billy murmured, hesitating for just a moment before he brought her into a hug. "It wasn't your fault," no matter how much he'd tried to blame her or Max, he couldn't.

"You can stay with us any time. You're family. And--- you'll... you'll still...?" Susan trailed off.

"Max is my sister. I'm there for her," it felt odd to say, but he meant it. He wasn't ready to call Susan his mom, but she was  _ something  _ to him. Once he and Steve felt like it was safe for him to drive solo, he'd like to continue bringing Max around.

"Are you going to stay with---"

"Yeah. Harrington. Uh, Steve."

"... I support you, Billy. You'll be happy with him, won't you?" She sounded hopeful, her hands nervously clasped together.

"He--- yeah. He makes me happy," he felt choked up, having never expected support from a parental figure. "Thanks, Susan." Truthfully, he wouldn't mind still living with them. And hearing Susan's promises of having space for him whenever, he felt his chest become warm, like a fire had been set in a previously frigid place.

But he still wanted to be with Steve. He'd spent so long denying himself that, he couldn't bear to be away. It was cheesy as all fuck, but he couldn't help it. It was actually kind of nice, feeling that way about someone.

"We'll always be here for you, Billy," Susan promised him that, and after great hesitance, she offered him a hug, which he took. He didn't quite expect it, but being hugged by her---

it felt a lot like being hugged by his  _ real _ mom.

\---

"The guy who worked on your car--- he's moving. Laurie says the owner of the garage needs another mechanic on hand," Steve mentioned it at breakfast, hoping it'd go over well. Billy looked a little anxious at the idea of that, and hesitated to eat, at first.

"You think I can hold a job, Harrington?" Steve knew the mood was usually tense, if he went back to calling him  _ Harrington. _ That, or horny. But he really doubted it was that, right now.

  
"You could--- try?" Steve frowned, pushing his scrambled eggs around. "You don't have to, Billy--- just thought... it's an opportunity, right? You said you wanted to be a mechanic," Steve looked up, shyly, "didn't you fix up that car for Tommy? You'd probably do great," he tried to stroke Billy's ego, tried to pump him up for the idea of it. Of course, Billy knew that Steve wouldn't judge him if he couldn't get or keep the job, but it still was stressful.

"If you insist, Bambi," Billy decided with a sigh, though when Steve leaned over to give his cheek a  _ big _ kiss, he thought it might be worth it.

\---

"Do you want me to walk you in? I could stick around for a bit---"

"No. It'll look weird if you escort me," Billy wished more than anything that Steve could stay, but he swallowed down his fear and turned to leave the car. He felt Steve's hand on his for a few seconds and his heart skipped a beat.

"You can call me at work if you need, okay? Okay, Billy?" Steve insisted on getting his recognition, and Billy swallowed thickly before nodding. They weren't in the view of anyone inside, so Billy chanced it by leaning over to press a kiss to Steve's cheek.

"Try not to die without me, Harrington."

\---

The mechanics place was just outside of Hawkins. Normally Billy wouldn't set foot there. It seemed fishy, and Hawkins itself was bad enough. He felt even more paranoid when he visibly recoiled, having heard a tool drop. Blue eyes blown wide landed, panicked, on the man who turned to look at him.

It felt like they shared some kind of moment. The guy didn't make fun of him for looking frightened and instead took one of his gloves off, came closer, and offered him the hand to shake.

"You must be Billy. You're the one with the rowdy Camaro, ain'tcha? Well, you're welcome here, if you can work well enough," and after a pause, he smiled, though it was a little hard to see with his bushy beard. "I'm Brian Atwell. I'm told you're pretty good at restoring cars. Means you know a thing or two about shit, huh? Mind giving her an oil change?" He gestured to one of the cars in the garage, and Billy spared it a glance. A Cadillac that looked worse for wear.

"Yeah. I can do that," and--- for the first time outside of Steve's presence--- he felt pretty confident.

\---

The first time he fucked up ( _ a miraculous entire week into being there _ ), he nearly lost it. He had a full on panic attack, shaking and crying. But all the guy did was crouch next to him, voice soft as he said,

"you're a good kid. We don't do that shit around here," they shared a knowing glance, and a gentle hand helped him up from the floor of the garage.

"If anyone ever hurts you, you tell us," in that moment, Billy saw a lot of himself in his boss. There was that  _ look _ in his eyes, not the kind of sympathy he saw from Steve, but rather the kind of sympathy you felt because you'd  _ been _ in that situation.

"Us?" Billy asked it with a shaky voice, wiping at his eyes.

"Yeah, kid. My group's in it together. We're all like you," and suddenly, it made sense as to why Laurie was so passionate about Billy meeting the mechanics. Billy didn't have to ask, because he  _ knew _ .

"Al--- alright. Thanks," Billy tried to pull himself together, sniffling as he felt Brian's hand on his back.

"You can call your boy, if you want. You don't have to work if you can't," despite his gruff appearance, Brian was very kind, which felt like precisely what Billy had needed.

"I'm good," Billy wasn't just convincing himself of that, either. He wanted to finish his work--- maybe he'd leave early, but not right now. He wanted to go home feeling proud--- feeling safe, like he had a purpose.

So he'd do his best.

\---

As the weeks wore into months, Steve and Billy continued to save; Billy felt confident in his therapy and was slowly, but surely, growing out of his need for pain medication. He was feeling better and better. Steve's parents went off on yet another  _ huge _ fucking trip--- but it felt very understood, despite never being said, that by the time they came back, they needed to find a place to live. They couldn't be here forever.

What they didn't expect was all the kids coming together--- to surprise them both with tickets to California. Susan said she'd chipped in for most of the fair, but the kids had insisted on it--- they'd wanted to give them something special. Billy looked like he was going to  _ cry _ , and Steve tried to tell him that he didn't have to go--- but he shook his head, and told them that he'd love to go.

The trip itself was not too long; less than a week, but full of Billy showing Steve everything that he'd missed. He'd even tried, very unsuccessfully, to teach Steve how to surf--- it'd been funny, more than anything, when Billy had to drag a whining Steve out of the water. Steve almost held it against Billy for taking a picture of him when he looked like a drowned cat, but instead he smiled in the photo, laughing along with Billy.

His favorite part of the trip wasn't the food or the scenery, but the moment they shared on the beach, at sunset, the crowds distant and few, when they shared a kiss in the dying light. It felt like something out of a romance movie, like that pivotal moment all those months ago when Steve had fantasized about sharing that kind of moment with Billy.

Finally getting to have it was more than he ever could've dreamed of.

\---

"You know, you and him seemed happiest when you weren't here. Shouldn't you give another place a shot?" Robin had asked him that, not long after his return. They'd been looking over the photos they'd taken on the trip, and she'd listened to how happy Steve had been. Billy looked freer and happier than he ever had, though melancholy, too, at times.

"Maybe we should," Steve mused, wondering if that was the right thing to do. He'd worried so much about Susan and Max moving--- but what if he and Billy did that, too? What if what was best for them was beyond Hawkins, Indiana?

And, in the end, they did give another place a shot. It wasn't too far; he could visit the kids every weekend or so, but they could have a better life. Maybe someday they'd move farther away, but at least they didn't have to suffer through the memories that Hawkins gave them. Billy got a job at a new garage, one owned by friends of the last place he'd worked at.

Life was moving along. Robin was going to college in the Fall, Steve was taking on jobs as a babysitter, and Susan and Max were moving as well. Steve had always feared being separated from everybody, but in the end---

it was what felt right. Some of his friends were going to college, or continuing on with it. Others stayed behind in Hawkins, but for a lot of them, the future looked bright elsewhere. They'd never forget each other, they'd never stop calling or writing--- and in some ways, they felt even more like a family, from a distance.

Steve couldn't ask for more, or for better. And neither could Billy.


	17. Side B, Space Age Love Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're finally at the end.... to spare people from having to scroll past mushy shit, i'll put my real feelings in the end notes

Steve was beginning to realize what his kind of normal was. It was not a monster hunting him and his friends down, it wasn't the kids breaking into his house to tell him about one of a thousand threats and tragedies. It was not having his workplace burnt to the ground, or his life threatened by men in uniform. 

It was instead sending Will and Jane letters, planning a movie marathon when they came up to visit. It was calling Joyce and asking how she was doing; them trading recipes. It was him stopping by Dustin's house for dinner at  _ least _ once a month, because his mother insisted on it.

But most of all, it was just Billy, sitting in their living room, like he had never been out of place. It was Billy Hargrove, there with him, talking shit to him every now and then, but also giving him soft looks. It was them making food for each other passively, or washing each other's car when the other didn't expect it. Somehow, Billy managed to keep a balance to the normalcy. Nothing could've prepared Steve for finding Billy, of all people, to be the most comforting and  _ normal  _ thing out of his day.

\---

Somewhere along the way, he realized he didn't just  _ like  _ Steve Harrington. He was absolutely head over heels in  ** _love_ ** , and against all odds, he said it out loud. He'd been staring at Steve and his sleep-mussed hair and he blurted out the ' _ I love you _ ' as Steve was yawning and scratching at his belly. It obviously caught him off guard, since the yawn was cut with a cough as he stared in Billy's direction. He almost felt like he'd said something wrong, but then Steve came closer, fingers curled so delicately into the fabric of his shirt, bringing him in for a kiss so sweet he just might get a cavity.

When Steve pulled away, Billy could see that he was smiling like he'd just won the lottery. It made his heart flutter as he heard Steve happily say, "I love you, too," like he'd wanted to say it for so long, and it was now a weight off his chest. Billy was almost convinced that if he hadn't of wrapped his arms around Steve, he may've floated straight up to Heaven.

"I love you," Billy said it again, his face buried against Steve's neck, pressing kisses to the soft skin there. He couldn't remember when he'd last said he loved someone--- anyone, let alone when he'd meant it. But here in their cramped little kitchen, he felt fine, he felt safe. As Steve rocked them back and forth to a soundless song, he felt like he belonged.

They were willing for this to be their  _ normal _ .

\---

It was 1987. No one fucking expected them to last this long, but look at them now;

Billy had a job still, working as a mechanic, taking on side jobs restoring old cars, a passion he spoke of whenever he could. Steve did whatever job caught his fancy with babysitting jobs in-between, and they shared an apartment--- a better one than last year. They both went to therapy now, even if they had to leave out some of the more bizarre shit that's happened in their lives. It was good, though. They went to the movies, on hikes, and, sometimes--- more than once--- they'd crashed a high school party in order to drag a too-drunk kid of theirs out of there. It was a part of their lives, all of it.

And now Heaven is a Place on Earth was blasting from their stereo--- a recent and treasured purchase. They're dancing, and it's not at all weird. It's  _ natural _ . Furthermore, the kids are with them. Okay, not so much like  _ kids  _ anymore. But they're all  **there** , and it's all  _ good _ .

Some things had changed; Lucas and Max danced together, just like Jane and Mike did, but at the end of the day, Jane and Max were together. After Lucas and Max's 100th break up, Max realized that maybe she had more in common with her brother than she'd thought, and had told Jane of her feelings. Both Lucas and Mike adapted to the change well, and no friendships had been lost. After Will came out, Dustin had taken it upon himself to  _ always  _ be Will's dance partner, and it wasn't often mentioned, but they were obviously enamored with each other. A satisfied Joyce was sitting nearby, taking pictures every now and then, looking happy and so much less tired.

Things were pretty sweet.

But even sweeter was Billy, belting out the song like it was the most natural thing for him, twirling Steve dramatically and the both of them laughing when he dipped Steve too low and almost dropped him. With Steve's gaze caught on Billy's freshly painted pink nails ( _ matching with Jane's _ ), he heard a picture snap and he spotted Joyce giving him a thumbs up. Billy, ever the trickster, pulled him in for a sudden kiss, and Joyce took another picture of the shocked expression.

"Asshole," Steve muttered, though he couldn't stop smiling.

"Shithead," Billy replied, grinning that heart-stopping grin.

It was the kind of peace Steve had always wanted--- a sense of family. He'd watch Joyce and Susan talk to each other, and it'd feel more like home than his own house ever had. Sometimes he misses things--- like working with Robin, or talking to all his friends--- but he's made new ones, too. And not everyone is far, Robin went to college near them, and it was more than a little surprising to discover that Tommy had taken up singing and playing guitar at various venues. Jonathan was off doing his dream job after being featured in a popular magazine, and Carol was well on her way to being a judge. The biggest surprise of all is that they all talk to each other, that they've even committed to meeting up when they have the free time to.

Sometimes Steve wondered what it would've been like if they'd all had each other, if Tommy and Billy could've been less at odds with him, if they all could've been friends to begin with--- he wonders what it would've been like to stay friends with Carol and Tommy. But he thinks that this is better late than never--- that having a group of people he can call his  _ friends _ has made this all worth it. It's been a long journey, but Steve felt confident--- that if anything came for him, or them, he could get through it. After all, he'd made it this far, and he wasn't alone, not anymore. He wasn't going to give up. Not when he had so much to live for.

It wasn't just Steve that thought that, though. Billy was willing to go through Hell for the family he had, too. He'd done it once; he'd do it again. But he knew it'd be easier a second time, because Hell hadn't seen a fury like Steve Harrington's.

For the first time, in a long time, Billy Hargrove felt safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly, i know i could've ended this about where i left off in updating (around chapter 13), but i wanted to do more. i wanted to show more growth for billy and steve, and their journey to being happy. i didn't want to end things when billy was obviously still not doing well and call that a happy ending. i feel like this is, even if it's kind of anticlimactic. but i'm happy with it--- and i'm not often happy with endings. 
> 
> i want to thank all my friends for supporting me in writing this fic, even people who weren't in this fandom. i'd probably have given this fic up months ago if not for mj, my boyfriend--- his ocs and our writing gave me a new drive for writing, and i cannot thank him enough. his oc donnie means SO much to me, along with all of his ocs. a lot of fun dialogue came from mj helping me!
> 
> though this is an ideal ending for me, i may post a small series of smut chapters, taking place through this timeline. as much as i love writing smut, i didn't feel it fit thematically to dedicate whole chapters to it. this story is about billy's recovery, not sloppy blowjobs. but separate one-off pieces, i may post sometime.
> 
> i don't know if i'll continue writing publicly for harringrove or st now that this is finished. i love roleplaying it with my boyfriend, but it may be time for me to move on. i am glad i wrote this, because it gave me a lot of inspiration and it challenged me. even if i'm not 100% satisfied with it, i know in some ways, i'll never be. but i'll always love it for what it is, and i'm sure like with all of my works, i'll come back and revisit it every now and then.
> 
> thank you to everyone who waited for this fic, and everyone who is new to reading it, as well. i hope you enjoyed! my twitter is energems and my tumblr is gghoulish. (:


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